Rhapsody
by Villain
Summary: COMPLETE FINALLY! Regardless of Sirius' current living status in the books that is, he's dead he's sent to kidnap Draco for use as an informant and hostage. When the two are isolated together, Sirius begins to see Draco in a whole new light... SiriusXDr
1. Mission Implausible

A/N: Isn't it ironic that I decide to write with Sirius as a main character when he's dead in the books? Well, more typical than ironic. I just hope I can capture the right Sirius! He's such a touchey character after all. (_grins_)

* * *

**Chapter One: Mission Implausible**

It seemed like all his life he used his knife instead of his wand. Not true, of course, but he couldn't help but feel it so as he went literally slashing left and right through the Malfoy Manor. Getting into the deteriorating mansion was no trouble, the Aurors had the Deatheaters trapped inside and they could basically manipulate the situation as they wished, but there was one factor that kept them from destroying the house itself. Information. There was no way to know if all of the Deatheaters were in that house, if the war was truly on the brink of ending. And Dumbledore would not get cocky and end this without being sure, Sirius knew that and it was the only reason he accepted this mission. The key to this entire war was inside Malfoy Manor.

Sirius threw himself down the longest run of his life. He could feel the house coming down all around him with seizing panic. His knife already gleamed red, and now it didn't matter if he used his wand. They knew he was here. Skidding to a stop, Sirius ripped out his wand, pivoting on his heel as a legion of Deatheaters poured from an up-leading staircase. Their hoods were down and their faces were chalky white. He took a moment to assess the situation, his eyes darting to every exit. They swung back though when a Deatheater fell to the floor coughing. Flecks of red sprung out from his flaxen lips and Sirius let his wand down slightly. The other Deatheaters barely flinched as the young man, barely Harry's age, lay dying. Sirius didn't feel any guilt in relief, the dark wizards here were nearly snuffed out.

He felt a little part of himself harden every time he used Avada Kadrava, and the hall was filled with green light. What really struck the Auror though was that over half of the men he faced didn't make any real effort to block the curse. Slaughter was what it was, and Sirius pursed his mouth.

Stepping over the corpses, keeping his eyes straight ahead, Sirius unfolded the roughly sketched map they had recovered from another failed spy mission. The map illustrated only the most important points that mattered to Sirius's cause, namely the upper east wing where the bedrooms were.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Gripping his wand, Sirius slowly turned, his limbs tensing as dark figures crawled from the ceiling, from the floors and walls towards him. They alighted on the ground in silence, their platinum locks whispers over their perfect ivory skin, veiling their piercing blue eyes.

Veelas.

Twenty or thirty of them at least were writhing and moving provocatively at him, their eyes dragging him closer into their bodies. Sirius snorted and turned back to moving down the hall towards the goal staircase. Behind him, the Veelas stilled. He could imagine the outrage on their perfectly alluring faces, but there was nothing they could do to dissuade him from the destination of his mission. No woman could, anyway. He yelled back over his shoulder, "You're missing something girls, sorry." Even as he laughed, he hated how husky his voice had grown. The damp chill of lying in wait or in camp had grown into his bones, giving him this eternal cold.

Needless to say, the Veelas stood in stunned and angry silence before the tallest of them sprouted her dangerous fangs and sidled down the hall like some scraping makeshift statue of sticks. They were in as bad a shape as the Deatheaters had been. Sirius heard them coming and without even bothering to face them, he stabbed his wand behind him and shouted those fateful words. Green light enveloped the scraping sound of the Veelas and erased their forces from existence.

"What else, it hasn't been finished," he murmured, looking over the map again and craning his neck around a tight corner down another stretching hallway. The house was a labyrinth, surely. And this labyrinth had more surprises in store for him, as an unwelcome guest.

He felt oddly like a muggle tourist. A muggle because wizards didn't bother looking at maps at all, that was a specific trait of their race when it came to unfamiliar places, but Sirius had seen muggles enough, stumbling around with huge maps obscuring the view they came to see. Although he most certainly did not come to sightsee around this desolate place, once one of regality and grandeur.

A door lay at the end of his trek, a thick looking door that could easily fit two sets of Weasly twins across the frame. For a moment he wondered how he would get in, undoubtedly there were hexes guarding what lay on the other side.

Something interrupted his thoughts, and for the first time this entire mission Sirius began to sweat. It was cold sweat, like trickling ice down his neck, ice stinging his brow. His ribs groaned as if bending to the dark forces creeping menacingly down the halls, spearing shadows like goblin fingers threading through the sinew of his limbs. And without a doubt in his thoughts, Sirius for a moment huddled close to the gigantic door, wishing a hex may put him out of this misery. He didn't want to face them, not them. A chilling sweep of their breath echoed close to his face. Over time, Sirius had become a very hard man, but that sound, its presence brought a scream to his lips.

The dementors numbered fourteen exactly. Sirius could tell without looking by counting each individual breath, every one different. Many of the magic community, and blamelessly so, believed dementors to be a kind of mono-minded monster; Sirius knew well that they were as unique from one another as witches and wizards. They would talk to each other, in a language so papery thin that one could barely discern it from breath. But words were different. Their breath was long and rattling, but their language was wispy, old like spider webs dressed in dust. Sirius could hear it, and that struck fear in him like nothing else could because he knew they were planning. With their devious, sinister minds lying in that fleshy, featureless face the rusty gears were turning in reference to this knew target.

"Not in bloody hell," he growled, shoving from the door, timing his turn, and landing a firm kick on one. Not that it mattered except to throw off their initial attack, but that was enough for Sirius who knew them well. In the second he had graciously aloud for himself, his wand was up along with the stained knife. Regrouping quickly, the Dementors flowed around him creating a treacherous circle. There was no way to get every one, not without at least a few getting their hands around his neck. And the moment the hood went down, Sirius knew that his chances became very slim.

But - as in most cases where one is put in an impossible situation - gut feeling, and animalistic instinct is put into great trust. Sirius, being one used to impossible situations (and one with a finely tuned gut for such things) closed his eyes, centered his mind on one thought that made his lips curl in a smile, and let loose with an appalling yell: "_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!"

Now that that was out of the way, Sirius regarded the heavy door with a moment's contemplation before simply landing his foot soundly in the very center of the thing, following as it burst in with surprisingly little trouble. Pleased with himself, he surveyed his work with an approving nod, then glanced over his shoulder.

The room was basically less than what the auror had expected; just a room with an iron barred window and a very high ceiling with very dark rafters. Cobwebs lined the walls thicker than blood, and Sirius left a distinct foot print in the mildewy floorboards supporting his weight. Since Lucius's death, it was as if the house had given up, dried like some great prehistoric fossil. He titled back his head, relaxing his neck. What he wanted was in here, and what he wanted was not as smart as rumored to be, only desperate. Hurried footsteps made by slim feet led from the bed in a path winding past where Sirius stood as if the person who made them had darted away in surprise.

He almost felt like teasing the wizard. Come out, come out, wherever you are, he silently sang. Not that he didn't know. He could hear the shifting weight behind him, shuddering breath. Sirius tucked his wand away; he was in no danger.

The wizard tucked in a corner behind him launched himself from the wall, wielding a piece of broken mirror in his grip. He was startlingly fast, but Sirius managed to dodge it, watching the jagged shard of glass whistle past his cheek as if in slow motion, and the white wrist that followed. His hand shot up, catching the wizard in the joint of his elbow, yanking him forward. A sharp hip struck his back as Sirius pulled the slight weight over his shoulder, jarring his back and flipping the body completely, flinging the struggling, flailing boy onto the bed.

For moments the young wizard just lay there, his breath wheezing in a crippled fashion from his lungs, which were practically visible between harshly jutting ribs. Sirius stood actually stunned for a moment, a little unsure now. The boy was supposed to be fine, still fighting, harboring secret supplies from a secret source, maintaining the strength of the Deatheaters. And here before him lay nothing but the complete contrary subject.

"Draco Malfoy." His voice was quite nearly bewildered under the initial growl. The boy on the bed tried to lift himself, failed, and unceremoniously slipped from the bed cover, coming to rest on his knees, hip bones arching unconventionally from his body. He seemed to catch his breath, then raise himself up, dragging his nails back to clear his face of the fine corn silk hair. Eyes like steel, eyes like Lucius's eyes beat into the Auror, the cold precise gaze the only thing conveying any strength. If Sirius prodded the boy in the chest with his finger, Malfoy would fall back again and this time not return to his feet. But somehow Sirius was captivated by the will this young wizard displayed.

"Come on then," Malfoy grated out, his throat sounding raw, "don't just leave me standing, I might as well die fighting on my feet."

Some honor, thought Sirius, almost smiling. 'I might as well die fighting' is just what a Malfoy would say. But 'I might as well' wasn't what Sirius came for. Avoiding the glass weapon, he easily slapped the wizard's hand away and shoved him down, ignoring the neglected nails caked in dirt that darted for his eyes. Malfoy posed no threat, but he did get annoying. Finally, with stubborn fingers frenziedly scratching at his neck, Sirius pulled out his wand. In all his years of wizardry, he had never taken to stun spells, but it came in handy now, putting his target to sleep. Now Sirius was able to wrap the boy in a moldy blanket covering the bed. Like a sack of coal he threw his cargo over his shoulder, grunting slightly. He frowned. I'm getting old, he thought, shaking his head.

What he faced in the mansion really must have been all that was left in this area. On the way out Sirius came across no disturbance, of any kind. The Malfoy boy was still out on his back as he slung him to the floor. They were on the first level, and Sirius couldn't figure the way out. So, as any red blooded wizard would, he decided to make himself one. The house was making him claustrophobic with its eerie silence. It reminded him of a graveyard late at night, but here he was in the tomb. Grumbling as a distinct shudder squirmed the length his spine, Sirius took up the severed arm of a marble statue, nodding to the ugly Malfoy face of the thing as it glared down at him. The last time he had been outside the walls, snow had been blanketing the grounds and clearing the air. It was the only reason he'd wrapped the wizard up, and now he couldn't help but regret not bringing a blanket for himself as well. He could feel the cold through the rotting wall. Squaring his shoulders, he glanced down at the white tuffs of hair peeking out from the death gray cover, and swung with all the might he had at the blank face of the wall.

It was still snowing, harder than before. But warming spells would be.... stupid. If there were any dark creatures for miles, they would sense it like a shark for blood. Being a wizard who.... _sometimes_.... believed in common sense, the Auror lugged Malfoy back over his shoulder and trudged on with very cold toes.

* * *

The rest of the team were huddled around a small fire that Snape had conjured while Lupin paced the length of the long table which served as a makeshift focal point in the decor of the shabby room. Not that one could call it decor, but it was the only piece of furniture they had, and they kept it with pride.

Lupin bent over the table, his thin arms shaking. Strands of ratted amber hair fell in front of his face. "Padfoot, you idiot," he whispered, "Why did I let you go alone." He clenched his fist, staring fixedly down at the rough map covering the rickety tabletop. From the fire, Snape turned and looked at the Werewolf.

Like stray cats, the group reacted quick and violently when the door to their hideout broke in. For minutes they all had their wands aimed, waiting. When nothing happened, McGonnagal strode over to the door and peered out. She turned back and shrugged. The group of Aurors followed her, trading glances with each other.

It was Lupin's gasp that brought the wands out again. Then it was Lupin's sigh of relief that put them away.

Sirius rolled his eyes as Lupin threw his arms around his neck, squeezing him nearly out of commission. Finally he peeled his friend off. Then he backed to the table and unfolded the moldy cover, revealing a steely eyed Malfoy, his whole body thrown into harsh angles and shadow. The team of Aurors stared. Rubbing his eyes, and squinting with irritation, Malfoy gave them all a withering glare and reached up, his long fingers wrapping around the low hanging bulb providing them un-magical light. A small, nasty smile curved on his mouth as he promptly yanked the whole light down, wire and all. Then, his face turning very different in the shifting firelight, Malfoy lifted the sparking light and threw it as hard as he could at Sirius.

"I see you've made friends," McGonnagal said, eyebrows raised.

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A/N: Hejk, this chapter title is excrutiating.... and I can't figure what's supposed to be capitalized and what not. Dementors, aurors, deatheaters. Big letters, or little!! I just know some people get really annoyed with that kind of stuff, so to save any future lectures, would anyone like to tell me?? Merci bocoup!

**Villain**


	2. Cabin Fever

A/N: THANX TO....  
(i dont talk to strangers: Thanks for the info!)  
(HPSlashfan4ever: There aren't that many... and it's a shame!)  
(Reptilian Goddess: I'm blushing! Aw, gee...)  
(GLEH: It's for atmosphere... meh dear.)  
(Gabo0: Glad you liked!)

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**Chapter Two: Cabin Fever**

"We've sent units to take care of the Manor, but that still leaves Lucius Malfoy's whereabouts to be obtained. Sirius, it is up to you to infiltrate the boy and find this information." McGonnagal's eyes trailed to Draco's twisting mouth as some Aurors fitted him with clean clothes. "Merlin, I remember him when he was just a boy, sneering like his father in my classroom." Uncharacteristically, the witch wiped her eyes, patting Sirius's shoulder. "That boy is the key to the end of this terrible war, and we all trust you."

Face marked with a sardonic smile, Sirius merely nodded. He had heard what Minerva said, but he truly wasn't paying that much attention after all. Knowing what to do came by instinct, not orders. And he was too busy watching Moony out in the hall to listen anyway. The werewolf at the moment was trying to convince the Malfoy boy to put on the heavy clothes the Order had provided for him. But like an irascible toddler, the young man would wait until Lupin seemed satisfied, then right when the older wizard would turn his back, he would tear off the clothing and throw it over the stairway bannister, smiling sweetly when old Moony sighed and shook his head.

After retrieving seven cloaks in total, Remus left the boy to the other Aurors, joining Sirius leaning in the door frame.

"He's as stubborn as a bull dragon and twice as mean." He smiled. "I'm sure you'll have quite a time with him. And you know, Padfoot, that frown he has reminds me of a certain young man when we would go to get our school robes fitted. You would squirm like there were flobberworms in your trousers."

"That's normal; you on the other hand, dearest Remus, enjoyed that tailor measuring you up a little too much if I recall."

Lupin laughed, tugging on the frontmost locks of Sirius's hair.

"I don't see why you're not the one baby-sitting this little bastard."

"Sirius, Dumbledore wanted you-"

"For Merlin knows why. Moony, you're a bit.... _gentler_ than I am." Sirius shifted uncomfortably. "I don't take kindly to rich little boys who have murderous fathers mouthing off to me, especially after all the bad history this kid has with Harry. My Godson, if you've forgotten."

"Have you taken the time to look at this 'little rich boy', Sirius?"

Grudgingly Sirius let Lupin turn his face to see now that three Aurors were holding down a squirming Malfoy as they tried to shove him into fresh clothing. In the odd shifts of light, Sirius saw Malfoy was made of mist. The jarring ribs and emaciated face forced him to turn back to a sober Lupin. "Yeah," he admitted wearily, "I see him."

"I know you, Sirius. Better than you know yourself; and I have faith in you. Besides, if I took over I would be a pushover for a person like Draco. I'm a werewolf and I would still lose a stare down with a cat."

"That Crookshanks can be mighty frightening at times."

"Shove off, Padfoot."

Finally Sirius came over and sent the Aurors away to do "something worthwhile" as he put it so graciously. He was left with a very waspish young man, one who spit at his feet the moment Sirius tried to come closer. Scowling, Sirius merely raised a hand and grabbed Malfoy's shoulder, nearly dropping the boy to his knees. He held on like a steel vice, unyielding until Malfoy went still, practically burning the floor with the acid spitting from his eyes. But Sirius was satisfied and let him up, even helping Draco enough so that they stood eye to eye. Then, under Lupin's amused guidance, the two friends outfitted their unwilling captive in clothing suited for the biting weather outside.

The other Aurors were on the street, packing a spindly black carriage. They waved up at the uppermost window of the Black house and Lupin signaled back.

"They're ready out there for you," he told Sirius. When the dark haired wizard stood up, Lupin grabbed his arm, eyes lowered.

"Remus, don't start worrying until I'm at least out the door. And if anyone must worry, I think it would be me. I'm going to be stuck with this brat for as long as it takes out on the moor with no hope of getting away from it. Minerva told me the whole area has been reinforced with powerful spells fixed to only let a few selected people in, and those same people out. And the best part is, I'm not one of the few, so I'll be trapped in that space." He shivered. "Like Azkaban, Moony."

"Stop it, you're not helping," Lupin whispered. "I'll come to see you as much as I am permitted. Just to check if you've killed each other yet." He glanced at Draco; the boy was curled up in a bare corner amidst the disarray of Aurors and members of the Order. "I think he's sleeping. He might even sleep for days now that he'll be in a safe place." Letting Sirius's sleeve fall from his fingers, Lupin met his friend's bemused gaze. "I know I'm being foolish to worry, but you're the last, Padfoot, and I never want to be alone like it's been, like when you were in Azkaban."

Over Lupin's shoulder, Sirius could sense Malfoy watching them. His eyes came back to Moony's face. He brushed the wizard's cheek. Not being a man of eloquent words, Sirius leaned forward and gently laid a kiss on Lupin's down turned mouth. It wasn't a kiss like they used to share in school. This kiss was one of a bond stronger than that of brothers, or lovers. Remus returned it, his arms clinging to Sirius as if he wanted to have Sirius's scent stained into him. Their embrace was tight, they were holding on to each other like the two of them had through harder times. Lupin's embrace was always warm, and Sirius found solace in it, his eyes opening to stare out at the winding snow covering the stretches of London in white. He moved his eyes, starting to close them, as they brushed over Malfoy's shapeless bundle in the corner. The boy's face was lifted and eyes staring at the two of them, expressionless. Deep in his gaze there was something burning, dormant like embers before oil spills over them. Sirius closed his eyes, being in Lupin's arms and seeing Malfoy's face presented a very harsh reality check. Malfoy was devoid of anything warm, anything even remotely inviting. And Sirius had to leave Lupin's brimming life force to spend as long as needed out on a desolate moor with a boy whose soul seemed equal to it.

* * *

By true nightfall of the blackest hue, Sirius had said his goodbyes to everyone in the compound. Stepping out the door and gasping from the dramatic change in temperature, he warmed himself by laughing. Inside, when he had said goodbye to a younger unit of Aurors, he ended up interrupting their making bets on his stay with Malfoy.

"Who do you think'll crack first?"

"Our Sirius is like rock!"

"Yeah, but that Malfoy's acid stare can melt rock like Mum's butter." There was a sizable din of agreement and a few souls tried to take back their bets they had made in Sirius's favor.

"All bets are final," Sirius said, startling the young men and women into an embarrassed silence. "But don't let me ruin your fun, we don't get much around here. Put me in eight Galleons that the boy will crack first." He left with their laughter filled hurrahs, waving from the door.

Like most people, Sirius hated goodbyes, even for short term, although in this case no one was telling. That was why he didn't respond to Lupin's gaze on him from the upstairs window. He could feel it though, as if Moony were whispering in his ear. But it made him bitter, too. He didn't realize why everyone thought this was so final. Like most of the senior members, he had performed interrogations before, and held watch over hostages. Maybe Malfoy was a very special case, but everyone was acting like he'd be gone for years. The boy couldn't possibly be that hard to crack, and on their 'isolated premises' as Dumbledore put it, they would have visitors. What Sirius chose to look over though was that Dumbledore had mentioned the visiting part of it after Sirius heckled him for literally hours. Remembering the old man's face, Sirius paused a long time before stepping up on the carriage steps. Then, on impulse, he considered his childhood home, now so much changed, and looked up at Lupin's face resembling his namesake hanging white in the window. He lifted his hand once, and heaved himself into he carriage.

* * *

It had been a good number of hours since leaving the house and Sirius had finally took his eyes away from the pitch out the tiny square window. Sitting rigidly across from him, face a perfect picture of sour scorn, Malfoy stared straight ahead at nothing, and Sirius jokingly feared that if he crossed that gaze he'd be severed in half.

Actual chains had been placed over Malfoy's arms and legs. Sirius thought of his own imprisonment, both Azkaban's free range terror, and the night Harry and Hermione had rescued him with Buckbeak from the Hogwarts tower. Taking empathetic pity on the boy, Sirius reached over to find the lock of the bindings.

Malfoy came to sudden life, his whole body shooting away from Sirius to press himself as far as he could into the scarlet satin corner of the compartment. A little surprised, Sirius shrugged. It looked as if the chains were cutting into Malfoy slightly, now that he'd moved. They were probably made that way. Sirius had seen such things before; when a prisoner tried to run, the chains would tighten with every movement, finally throttling the person to death. Harsh lengths in any case. But Sirius figured it might give the boy ideas. He wouldn't be surprised if Malfoy waited until he was asleep and then literally wriggled himself to death in the tightening chains. 'I might as well die fighting' Malfoy had said before.

Moving over to the opposite seat, Sirius caught the chain binding the boy's wrists and forcibly pulled him over, not liking the way the wizard struggled so much. Growing impatient, Sirius spat, "Do what you will then." Malfoy kept struggling until he was gasping. Finally, when the gray eyes rolled back to bloodshot whites, Sirius cut the chains with his knife, shoving Malfoy to the floor as the boy writhed and gasped. "Little more afraid of death than we thought, are we?" Sirius nudged Malfoy's shoulder with his foot, feeling a sudden disdain for him. Right then he felt like beating everything out of the boy so that he wouldn't be forced into isolation. Remus would be better than me, he mentally repeated the words he argued with Dumbledore before. But Albus had given him the same reasons that Remus had; Sirius was the only one strong enough both physically and mentally to tackle this charge, end of discussion. Plus, there was always that unspoken point; Lupin was a werewolf, and strange things would happen out on the moors.

While this whole ordeal takes place, Sirius would only have _this_ sorry excuse as a companion. He glared at the person lying still on the plush carriage floor, reminding Sirius of a piece of coal lying among rubies. And their relationship was daunted by the circumstances as it were. As Sirius saw it, Draco was going to be used to track down and destroy Lucius Malfoy, and the boy knew it as well as anyone. Despite how he regarded his father, in bad light or in favorable, Draco was a Malfoy, and Malfoys never betrayed family if there was nothing worthwhile in it for them. Sirius knew this because he'd heard it from the horse's mouth, so to speak. Lucius often paraded his family values around school when Sirius was at Hogwarts with him.

That was another stitch in his side. Every time he looked at the damned boy he saw Lucius. And there was nothing else in the world that could get his blood boiling more than Lucius Malfoy. Silky, slimy, sauntering, swaggering Lucius Malfoy and his slick blonde hair. The human snake, as James would say. Only "S" words could describe him. He was sinister and sacrilegious. Sirius's brow curled. What did sacrilegious mean? It started with an "S", so Lucius would fit.

Remus told him once that he became very foolish when it came to Lucius. And Sirius didn't deny it. Whenever Lucius came up, he would start throwing around nonsense like 'sacrilegious', a word he didn't think he knew to begin with.

"I'm going insane already," he said, rolling his head back on his shoulders. When he put his hand to his forehead, it came away moist with sweat. Growling, Sirius pulled his cloak from his shoulders, tossing it down onto Draco's head. The boy didn't move it, so Sirius decided he was asleep and therefor, out of his hair. Scratching his chin, Sirius sighed deeply in a very Lupin-like fashion. He glanced lazily out the window. Faint light from the carriage compartment leaked out on the ground passing by outside, dwindling into heavy shadows almost immediately. They were on the moors, Sirius could feel the vastness. His white knuckles cracked as he clenched a fist. "Another Hades like Azkaban," he murmured. Eyes cast demurely out into the stretches of invisible landscape, Sirius turned his thoughts to his Godson, who was located in a hidden keep somewhere, and let the happy thoughts of Harry's safety lull him to sleep.

* * *

The area was so far out of the way that it was beyond morning when the carriage finally rolled to the outside of the barrier. Sirius peered out the window grimly, as Draco looked through the opposite window, still silent and stony. He had woken before Sirius completely fell into slumber, and moved from beneath Sirius's feet where they had found a resting place on his chest. Since in the night he had been staring fixedly out the window, his pointed chin cupped in his left hand. Pretending to sleep, Sirius had kept half an eye on him, and was surprised when Malfoy had begun to tap the fingers of his right hand on his knee in a distinct pattern, which he repeated over and over as if it were the tune to his favorite verse in a song. Sirius found it fascinating, and soon he was trying to fit the tune in his head, striking mental notes each time Malfoy moved a finger. Lupin would know it right away, because the Marauder was a hound, no pun intended, for music.

Malfoy had stopped the movement of his fingers when Sirius pretended to wake up, stretching and giving the most disturbing groan as his back tried to knock him out with shabby tugs. His fingers jarringly kneaded the painful spot and Sirius made all sorts of guttural sounds, which he could see annoyed Malfoy. He made himself louder, grinning beneath the veil of his black hair which hid his amusement from the boy.

Apparently their things, or Sirius's things and Malfoys donated property, were already in the place where they were staying (Sirius hadn't yet labeled it a house, nor even a shelter in case by labeling it so he was preparing himself for grave disappointment). All he had to do included getting off the carriage and stepping through "the bars of his cage". I'm torturing myself, he decided.

Figuring the chains Malfoy had were in case of an attempted escape, Sirius grabbed him roughly by the collar, unexpectedly on Draco's part, and dragged him gruffly out of the carriage. The moment they were standing in the ice clad grass, the carriage slammed itself shut and erupted away like a flock of pigeons taking off in a park. That was reassuring. Glaring at the carriage as it, let's just say; made a run for its inanimate life, Sirius kept a firm hold on his charge, pulling the relenting wizard with him. They approached the barely seen boundary, so abrupt and impersonal in Sirius's opinion, and without hesitation to change his mind, Sirius dove through. Only at the last moment Malfoy made a noise, and to Sirius's ears it sounded like a curse. For some reason that made him smile obnoxiously, so now they knew that Malfoy had some sort of fuse on him. Sirius was just there to cut it short and light the match.

Being inside was no change to being outside, except that now the unlabeled place was revealed to them. And Sirius was glad he hadn't built up any grand picture of a large comfortable house. It faintly resembled the Shrieking Shack, only smaller, and not so imposing a figure. This little place was well-nigh scruffy looking. Sirius felt himself grin, although barely because it was so cold out.

"Home, sweet home," he told Malfoy, walking up to the door that looked like it could be pushed down by a house elf. He opened it, satisfied with its hidden sturdiness and entered the living quarters. Inside, he laughed good and hard. It was a larger place than he'd thought by its outward appearance, but with only one room (probably so his surveillance would be unaltered). There was a wood stove, which fortunately Sirius knew how to work, and a round knitted rug lying as the center piece, and a table with two matching chairs. Something like a shower curtain framed one corner, and nothing needed to clue in Sirius about that particular display. At least he knew now that they didn't have to answer the call of nature out in the bleak cold. Besides the sparse treatments of furniture (aforementioned plus lanterns and two grizzly cots), it just exactly fit the place that Sirius had kept with Buckbeak for that long time. Of course he and the cuddly featherball had warmed the place up after a while, but the similarities were uncanny. Although now instead of a big clumsy oaf of a Hippogriff that could snore awake the dead, Sirius had the companionship of Lucius Malfoy's son.

Speaking of the devil, Malfoy hadn't come in yet. He was still posed in the doorway as if afraid to let his feet touch the floorboards, while Sirius was impressed that they even had a floor. The older wizard turned around and spread his arms wide. Draco looked at him in blatant disgust. Then, his lips pressing so tightly together he looked mouthless, Draco gazed sidelong outside for a few seconds before coming all the way inside and shutting the door behind him with a concluding slam.

Sirius had perched Malfoy on one of the chairs, again using the boy's collar as a firm hold. At first he'd left him there, hunting around a bit for eats and discovering a magic pantry which had an unlimited amount of food. Everything one took was instantly replaced. But it was all the magic Dumbledore would allow them out here in case of any enemy scouting for Draco.

Chewing contentedly on a delectably juicy apple, Sirius figured that he might as well begin the procedure, never being one to drag things out. He wouldn't begin the interrogation, not yet, but perhaps discuss basic facts while he inspected Malfoy for any spells or damage concealed at the base. For all Sirius knew, if he gave the wizard verituserum, a spell could trigger which would kill his charge. In cases like these, no one ever knew. So he would run some tests and.... chat. What a terrible word; one Remus used too much. Once Sirius was stuck in the same room with Snape and Moony had had the gall to tell him to 'chat' with the oily git. Chatting. That put a damper on all the other dampers.

"Sit still," he said gruffly, hating to be professional. Taking a special vile from his pocket (having left his wand back at the house for safety reasons; namely if Malfoy got his hands on it and decided to perform an Unforgivable), Sirius tilted Malfoy's head back. For that he received one of the nastiest glares he'd ever had the _pleasure_ of experiencing. Not since school with Lucius had he been the target of such malicious vision.

"Take your hands off me, Black," Draco snapped. He shoved Sirius's hands away. "I can move myself." The malice had dribbled from his eyes into his voice. It was like speaking with Lucius again.

Damn Moony for letting him do this alone. It was all Sirius could do not to slug the boy right in the jaw. But he took a deep breath and counted to ten. "If that's what you want," he grated, "Now I'm going to drip some of this potion into your eyes-"

"Where is Professor Snape? I don't want some _animal_ giving me potions." He grabbed the paltry git by the shoulders, shaking him. "Listen you little wanker, for now until we're done here it's just you and I. Snivell-_Snape_ is off doing something else and he has no time to waste here on you, Malfoy. But I do. I have all the time in the world to waste on you."

Draco's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits of burning silver. He leaned very close to Sirius's face and said very quietly, "You won't get anything out of me."

The way that angular jaw was set Sirius was reminded of Lucius again, and not, he imagined, for the last time. They had run into each other outside of Potions. Sirius had fallen, dumping all of his books. And Lucius, Lucius had easily kept his feet. He stared down at Sirius on the ground with such a superior expression, then had just walked away. Nothing, just walked away. That was worse than laughing or sneering; if Lucius had done that Sirius could have yelled something back, or fought the older boy. But with nothing, what could he do?

"At this point I don't care if you shrivel up into dust! This is getting into your eyes. And if you're so keen on moving your own self, then tilt your head back now. This stuff will only check if you're set for anything."

"I'm not."

"I don't care, we're checking anyway."

Draco dug his heels into the floor and pushed the chair scraping back over the floor. "You're not putting that in my eyes, I said. There's no reason for it!" A red flush stained his white cheeks. Sirius raised his eyebrows.

"Now if you weren't so jumpy I wouldn't be so insistent." Sirius got to his feet. "Despite it all, this is going in your eyes."

"No, I won't let you."

"Kid, there are no other people here. Like I said; just you and I. And if you carry on with this idiot behavior, I will not hesitate in knocking you out to get this potion in your eyes and working."

Malfoy looked like he was at a loss for words. His mouth seemed to be shaping some, but with no sound. His delicate brow furrowed, and it was obvious his next sentence was hard coming.

"I. Won't. Let. You."

Sirius stared at him. He had no lingering doubt in his mind that Malfoy would take a swing at him if he even moved closer. But that didn't matter, it was regulation that this would get in his eyes for the protection of them both. And Sirius refused to put his life endanger because this kid was stubborn. So he capped the vile again and put it in his pocket. What would Remus do? Well, Lupin would probably contact Snape to get out here and give the boy the potion, but Sirius couldn't bother getting Snivellus. Right now his agenda was to test the boy for spells, and that one thing only. Unlike his female peers in the Order, he was not a multitaskable fellow, and irritable when pushed to be.

"Come here."

"No," Malfoy shot back, squaring his feet. Then, as an after thought; "You're insane."

It wasn't like he hadn't heard it before.

There were only about five feet separating the two of them. Sirius drew his knife. And like a racing dog after the gun has been fired, Malfoy darted for the door, his hand fumbling with the rusty knob. Marking him, Sirius threw the knife easily, landing it on the edge of Malfoy's shoulder, going straight through the cloak, and pinning him to the door. The only other person he'd ever done that to was coincidentally Draco's father. Sirius shook his head, _We're not going to think about that_. But it was unnerving taking out the vile and moving up to the struggling blonde, neatly grabbing his hair and yanking his head back. Then with two fingers he held the eyelids apart and dripped in the potion. Malfoy let out a yowling moan like a cat, blinking furiously, and thrashing his legs in harsh kicks aimed for Sirius's shins. The drops got in, Malfoy's eyes immediately turning vermillion. Sirius stepped back, leaving the knife where it was. He didn't know how much time it would take, he never did. This stuff worked on how much, or how little the person had been spelled. So Sirius waited, picking off the brown parts on the meat of the apple, whistling as he did the tune Draco had tapped with his fingers.

Malfoy practically hung from the knife, his mouth open, eyes tightly closed, as the potion worked. Sirius rolled his eyes. It looked like he had a drama queen on his hands; it couldn't possibly hurt as bad as the boy was making it out to. But Harry got into little tiffs like that, making things ultimately bigger than they were. Regardless, Draco's face unnerved him so he walked up to the wizard and gingerly pulled back his lids in both eyes. The potion, staining the pupil red if there were any traceable spells, had left the pupils black and was now running down the pale face in tiny drops that looked like oily tears.

He rocked the knife back and forth until it came loose from the door. Malfoy swayed on his feet a little, rubbing the wetness from his cheeks with both hands. Sirius studied the bowed crown for a moment, then sat down at the table. Draco pulled a chair up to it and sat down as well. For some reason, Sirius gripped the boy's shoulder. Draco gasped and looked up, his eyes darting over Sirius's face.

"You were telling the truth."

Draco scoffed and warily drew away from Sirius's touch. "I knew that." He looked down at his hand, fingers tapping out that familiar tune. When Sirius matched him by whistling, he asked nonchalantly, "Has the Manor fallen?"

Sirius leaned back, watching the slender fingers playing the tabletop. "Guess so, they would have gone in this morning. And if there is any sentimental property you want to keep, I'm sure the Aurors will salvage-"

The boy wiped the last drops of potion from his eyes. "No," Draco said quietly, "There's nothing there I want."

Carefully, Sirius rested his elbows on the table. He tried to imagine Harry whenever he and and his Godson had breakfast alone together. For a time, and for a reason they both couldn't understand, things went slowly between them. Conversation was out of the question. There were only empty comments they both made that lead nowhere.

"None of us expected to see the Manor like it is." Sirius ran his fingers through his hair. "I didn't expect to see you like you were."

Draco stopped tapping the song and clenched his fists. "We had little food," he said bitingly without looking up. "_Your_ side is starving us out. For weeks on end we ate nothing but rotten food. The dark creatures with us ate each other, or survived off of the dead."

Putting his apple down on the table, Sirius scratched his chin, rubbing at the shadow of hair creeping around his jaw. Malfoy's story sounded familiar, echoing his own while he was on the run from Azkaban. Dead things. Sometimes it was all he could scavenge. For the first time, Sirius really looked at the boy sitting across from him. He was like Lucius, almost identical in appearance, and yet Sirius felt something different off him, something human in the way Draco stared hard at the table, his head resting in his hand as the fingers of his right again began to play out the song. His nails were caked with dirt.

Splitting the quiet, Sirius's stomach let out with a monstrous roar. He patted it. "Want something to eat?"

Draco stared at him in disbelief. "You're mind boggling," he said. "I'm not ready to eat yet, they gave me something back at that house."

"All this food and you're eating like a bird."

"My stomach can't handle anything more than a meager supply for a while. I prefer not to reintroduce the food I eat to the outside world."

Sirius felt scolded. This kid was so different from Harry, Ron, or Hermione. He _knew_ that of course, but a teenage boy turning down a limitless display of victuals was astonishing next to the endless voids Harry and Ron seemed to pack within their bellies.

"Suit yourself, it's there when you want it." He opened the pantry door and smiled; "Good old Dumbledore." There was a huge already made sandwich piled with all of his favorite trimmings. He lifted it out, mouth watering, then something else caught his eye. It was a heavy dictionary that just appeared between the spices and herbs. Slamming it and the sandwich down on the table, unsure if the four skinny legs could hold the weight, Sirius was just about to dive in when he caught Draco's eye. "What?" He grinned. "You want one?"

The skeptical gray eyes drifted over the mountainous array of oozing mayo, crisp lettuce, mounds of cheese and meats, rivers of sauces, rows of peppers, and juts of crisps and gummies snacks shoved between several different levels of a variety of breads. Draco swallowed uneasily.

Sirius gazed at the scandalous atrocity with loving eyes.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Draco managed, rushing from the table and diving behind the tacky curtain hanging in the corner. Sirius watched him with a confused expression.

"Making room?"

Draco's reply was a series of violent retching.

Sirius shrugged. "Sacreligious..... Aha! Injurious or disrespectful to things held sacred; profane. And it's an _adjective_." Sirius scratched his chin. "Not sure what that is." He closed the book. Not bad for the first day, Sirius complemented himself. No blood shed, all limbs intact, a new word learned, and a quintuplet decker sandwich bigger than most children for supper. No, not bad at all.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was specifically for feeling the characters out with each other. Next chapter gets tense, honestly. Squee! I'm just having fun with this one, peoples! (_blows a raspberry_) Dosvedania!

**Villain**


	3. Pressure Points

THANX TO.....  
GLEH: Oh, pish posh - I'm blushing. You're such a silly budgie.  
tommalfoy: Thank you!  
Ihni: I'm bursting with love, doll! I'll try to fufill your wishes!  
GaBo0: I know - so few, so few! It's a tragedy, and a conspiracy.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Pressure Points**

For years Sirius had heard tales of the moors. He remembered one in particular; when a man died of cold out on the vast lands. And he believed it wholeheartedly. In the middle of the night he rolled out of his bed, jarring his chin on the floor. Groggily he staggered passed a round mass in the center of Malfoy's bed; Malfoy himself trying to keep warm he guessed. At the least the kid was trying. On the other hand, the first shiver and Sirius was cursing everything including the sky, tossing and turning until he built up the courage to go on a quest of fire. Luckily he and Buckbeak had many nights by fireside and he knew how to make one.

Going to his new best friend the pantry - which had outfitted him not only with the best sandwich he'd ever tasted, but a banana avocado shake as well for dessert - he found a fresh book of matches. Guessing the wood to already be in the stove place, Sirius struck a match just to thaw out his fingers. He bent over against the will of his paining back, pulling up the latch. When he drew the door back, he was greeted by a blast of brightly hot fire in his face, singeing a few strands of his wily fringe.

"We'll not tell anyone about this," he said, closing the door and locking the latch securely. It must be triggered by opening the door. He studied the book of matches. "And my favorite magic pantry must know what we want, or need." Grinning, Sirius hobbled over on warming feet to his pantry, pausing to squeeze his eyes shut. Then he breathlessly pulled the door back and laughed quietly, using both hands to carefully draw out a wide drawing board with thick paper and a side pocket filled with sticks of conditioned charcoal. "I wouldn't have lasted long without this."

* * *

"That's even more disgusting than the last heinous crime against sense you ingested. I'd rather not take part in it." Draco continued dipping the heavy tea bag into his cup, eyes watching it bob up and down. He'd been more talkative than before, and Sirius guessed that Malfoy was one of those beings who could accept things, then adapt quickly. Well, to a certain extent. Obviously his waffles with barbecue sauce was found to be offensive. He came upon the concoction over in America in a crowded, noisy restaurant on last call for breakfast plates. Mistaking the row of bottles on the table for breakfast condiments, he'd selected the substance resembling syrup and swamped his plate with it. Since then, he's never turned back.

"No worse than plain tea." Sirius himself preferred strong coffee with sugar and cream, and sometimes some ginger for kick. Draco rolled his eyes, but said nothing more. Grinning, Sirius lifted a forkful of the stuff and crammed it in his mouth, moaning deliriously. Across from him, the blonde boy got up and sat on his cot, looking oddly out of place with his pinky raised daintily from the steaming cup.

After Hogwarts, Sirius had become accustomed to silences. So was the bachelor's life. But when there were other people around, silence bothered him like an immense thorn in a very small lion's paw. And now proved no different. Malfoy seemed to bask in the silence, closing his eyes and sipping his nasty plain tea without a word or even paying attention to Sirius's existence. That irked the man more than anything. His parents had told him it was a family problem; the need to be acknowledged, and when in first year Remus had informed him of the same opinion five minutes after the boys met, he actually grew to believe it. He found no shame in filling silences with anything he could; so smacking his lips loudly and slurping the thick mug of coffee squatting contentedly beside his plate, he tried to get Malfoy's attention.

It turned into a sort of game. Sirius thought of every way to be as annoyingly noisy as possible, and Draco made every effort evident that he didn't care a wisp. Back in school, Sirius's professors tried the same tactic by burying their long noses in their notes or snapping and turning Sirius into a turtle or something quiet. Of course, Dumbledore said that was unethical and they were told to stop, but McGonnagal ended up being the exception. Sirius spent more time in her class ducking in and out of his turtle shell than listening. He concluded that was the reason he slid into being an Animagus so easily.

Malfoy was fully indulging in his tea; inhaling the steam, sipping leisurely, completely ignoring Sirius and rubbing it in his face. He looked like such a stuck up ponce. The mannerisms in the long hands were painfully like Lucius though. Sirius narrowed his eyes over the rim of his coffee mug. Why do sons have to resemble their fathers so damn much. It was enough that every time he looked at Harry he saw James. That grew painful sometimes, admittedly. He missed James. The boy was the bravest and most sensible person he'd ever known.And studying Draco now, a shorter, thinner Lucius sipping steaming tea, Sirius remembered James again. When the day before he had thrown the knife to pin Draco for the potion, the sight took him back to the only other person he'd ever thrown the knife at; Lucius. The git had done something to Peter - irony made Sirius smile bitterly - and while Peter fought tears, Sirius had gone after the Slytherin. He'd cornered him on the Quidditch pitch, fists raised. Even years later, Sirius still couldn't figure why he'd gotten so angry; the rage he radiated had little to do with Peter. The anger that swamped him was mixed with disgust and.... disappointment. All those emotions guided the knife into his hands, through the air, pinning the arm with the hand holding Lucius's wand. The blonde had curled his lips in a venomous sneer.

He wanted nothing more than to pound that arrogant face into mush, but something stopped him as he stormed up to the other boy, staring him down. Remembering now, Draco's form becoming unfocused in the fog of the past, Sirius began to recount details that had been sleeping in his subconscious for years and years. Lucius had glared viciously back at him, snarling and spitting in Sirius's face. Calmly wiping the saliva off, Sirius caught the long blonde hair roughly in his hands, jerking Lucius back so that his crown collided with the bright house colors of Ravenclaw covering the audience tower they stood in the shadow of. He guessed the Slytherin had made some snide comment, because Sirius remembered scoffing and shoving his shoulders sharply into Lucius, their heavy breathing mouths tasting each other's breath. A sensation raw and powerful issued in the clash of their battling gazes. Suddenly a dawning struck Sirius, how delicate the lines of the boy's face were, how fierce and bright were his eyes. And how alluring his red mouth was, puffing hot breaths in the cold air onto Sirius's flushed lips. Their closeness seemed to fall on them in startling clarity. Both the urge to push away, and the pressure to remain that close, fought. He was lost in the veils of silver making up the unique coloring of Lucius's eyes, caught by the fact that the other boy had become quiet as well. In that moment Sirius was gripped with an almost unwilling sensitivity, his eyes watering under the intensity as he leaned closer, aware of the electricity crackling between their lips as they crept nearer. Lucius's eyes rolled shut, his tongue peeking within the red, red mouth. Sirius could taste the other boy even before he touched him, his hand wandering around the slender waist. They were very near, lips trembling, both their breaths cut and short with tainted apprehension. Lucius opened his mouth, his tongue darting out to sweep along Sirius's bottom lip-

Sirius choked on his coffee, reliving the shock of James's voices shattering the careful tension creating the boys' would-be kiss so long ago. Everything after was shady. Explaining things to James had been agonizing, as Sirius barely knew what happened himself. His friend looked betrayed, even exhausted. For a few days the only way Sirius could communicate to James was through a reluctant Remus. Things changed. And after that, Lucius hadn't bothered to acknowledge his existence any more. They weren't enemies anymore, they weren't.... anything. Like the time Lucius ran into him in the hall and just stared at him blankly before walking off.

"Merlin," he murmured throatily, gulping half his mug. From the cot, Draco glanced over sidelong at him.

"I think your stomach is trying to tell you something." He motioned vaguely at the coffee and sauce stains on Sirius's front. "Either that or you need a bib." He went back to his tea without another word, and Sirius took a deep rattling breath, sounding like the rickety stove in the Weasly's house with the creaking door.

Uncomfortable, Sirius cleared his throat. He blanked his mind, dismissing the look on James's face, or the sight of Lucius's back as he walked away. Damn silence, he judged critically. Anymore of it and he'd drown himself with unruly memories again. That shows I'm really getting old, he thought, When my only entertainment comes from lost times back in the stone age.

"In a few days we're going to start the procedure," he said. "It's not rough if you don't make it rough, but knowing Malfoys, I'm sure it will be a _picnic_."

Draco shot him a dirty look. "And you would just give in if our side took you as a hostage."

"My not giving in would save lives, whereas what you tell us can save lives as well. Don't you want that?" Sirius didn't meet the gray eyes, looking out the small white-silled window. The area looked desolate, just like yesterday, and just like it would tomorrow and the next day.

"A guilt trip has lost its effect. I don't care who lives or dies."

"You seemed to care when it came to _your_ life."

"That's different; mine matters to me."

"You're a selfish little prick, Malfoy."

"I think I liked it better when you were rooting through your breakfast, and my tea cup was my conversational partner." He took a drink. "And what kind of Auror tells the kidnapped when the interrogations begin." Gray eyes sliced over. Sirius crossed his arms defensively. "Quiet bothers you, doesn't it?"

Sirius's mouth thinned.

"I bet it was frightening when silence filled the island prison of Azkaban," Draco wistfully mentioned. "Screams would be more comforting, at least that would cover up the breathing of those Dementors. I hear they aren't big talkers."

Tossing his hair, superciliously hiding his discomfort, Sirius forced a wry smirk. "What would you know, boy? Not that I doubt your experience or anything; by all means, know-it-all, go on."

Draco put down his cup. Sirius's smirk wavered. "It never gets old how everyone thinks I'm some ignorant little brat. That Manor _was_ Azkaban. Although I didn't get the chance to lose my appetite from fear, being that we had no food for me to turn away from. But we had plenty of Dementors wandering around, growing restless and eating souls from the weaker of us who wandered throughout the house alone. There was no order, no control. If someone had a grudge against another, they would kill them and feed them to the Veelas, or to the hounds. The only reason I survived as long as I did in that house was because I made them all believe that the house was alive and would be angry if they harmed me in any way." He shifted on the limp mattress. "You've never killed anyone close to you, Black. You've barely taken lives at all; if ever, mostly inhuman creatures of darkness, right?"

Sirius leaned back, his head light.

"I've killed men that I grew up knowing. Men whom I trusted as much as a Malfoy should trust anyone. Which I must say, Black, is something."

"Why are you telling me this? I haven't put any questions to you."

Draco's eyes turned feral. "Would you believe I'm baiting you, Black? I heard once that anyone who has spent time in Azkaban has a trigger. We all do, I suppose, but Azkaban really _does_ something to a person. It sucks something from their soul." He faced Sirius fully. "Curled up in the corners of open cells, staring out through bars that don't exist, fear choking your nerves every time you hear the rasping breaths approaching your cell, wondering whether you're going to get a Kiss hello from your friendly neighborhood Dementor. And otherwise thinking about your innocence, and the people who did this to you, knowing that being here was an accident, that your friends' hate you, thinking you're something evil and foul that has been lurking under their noses for years and years, gaining their trust and love just to stab them in the heart. Could you imagine, which I'm sure you have in those desolate cells, what James Potter would say, what his face would look like if he knew that it was your fault Lily is dead, that little Harry Potter is an orphan. That you turned down the responsibility as their guard to _Peter Pettigrew_. So in a sense, I guess we're not too far apart after all. It looks like you've killed those who are close to you as well. Maybe you even _enjoyed_ it-"

"You little fucker," Sirius hissed, standing out of his chair and sending it flying against the wall. Draco looked phased only for a second, a nasty knowing smirk betraying his intentions. The boy rose from the bed, everything in the way he stood antagonistic, his eyes and face taunting the painful past. Why was it always the past with this contemptuous kid?

"Don't like what I'm saying, Black? Because it's true." He tilted his head in a grotesquely angelic way. "And to think that the Golden Boy has such faith in his Godfather, the murderer of his parents. It's almost poetic."

"Obviously your life doesn't mean _that_ much to you." He withheld the bane of his tone, but couldn't stop the raging waver that tarnished it weak. "Don't _ever_ mention any of my family or friends again. And never, never again mention Azkaban or I will make you wish you were there instead of here."

"Well, well. Oral threats instead of just shoving a knife in my face. I must say, Black, the latter is more effective."

"Don't push me any further, Malfoy." Sirius's voice had grown very dangerous. He hadn't been this angry since finding out the truth about that slimy vermin, Pettigrew. But he knew what Malfoy was doing, which helped him keep his head. The boy was trying to get rid of him, make him quit, or make him snap. And since he had eight Galleons riding on this assignment.... He grinned. Malfoy gave him a sharp reproachful look.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I'm just sick of having my buttons pushed."

Draco smiled. "That was the goal."

"I say we press some of yours, Malfoy."

"I'm game. Starting the interrogation early, are we?"

"Well, we all have triggers you said, and the moor isn't full of entertainment opportunities. Seeing you squirm sounds like the high point of my day."

The boy frowned, and then a coy and suspicious light entered his eyes. "I bet seeing me do _anything_ would be the high point of your day."

That hit Sirius like a triple decker Knight Bus. "What?"

"Like you said, it's just you and I out here for as long as it takes." His lips exuded poison as they curved into a sinfully pleased smile. "It must have been just _murder_ on you to leave the werewolf behind, knowing you wouldn't be seeing him for a while."

Now he remembered, Malfoy had seen them kiss goodbye. He glared seethingly. "What the hell are you getting at?"

"Just that I haven't pressed all your buttons, _pulled_ all your strings."

He hoped he wasn't gaping, although he knew he was.

"Pettigrew said you had a lot of audacity when you were my age. He said you paraded yourself around as being a flirt. All the girls loved you, and so did some of the boys, right? And it was the boys you were interested in."

When in the hell had Malfoy moved closer?

"The showers in the morning, sleeping at night; listening to them in the next beds, some of them sleeping barely clothed. Pettigrew said that not only Lupin used the Shrieking Shack, but that you would-"

"Enough." How did Peter know all that; Sirius had been careful, always. He shook his head. This brat was manipulating his thoughts, trying to fray his concentration. It didn't matter anymore.

"I'm only trying to identify with you," Draco cooed, putting a hand on Sirius's shoulder. Sirius ripped it away.

"We're here for one reason; information. You're still alive for one reason; information. And I haven't sewed your mouth shut with wire for one reason."

"Give me twenty guesses at what that reason is."

It was really hitting him. There was no way to escape this boy, or this place. Sirius was walled in with no chance of knowing anything. The world could be ending, and he wouldn't know. And this transformation from quiet brooding to alarming brashness in Malfoy was gnawing on his nerves. The boy knew that Sirius truly couldn't touch him. He could be seriously disciplined for harming a hostage, perhaps even banned from the Order, and that would kill him. Not to mention those damn Galleons he bet.

"How long will you last, _Sirius_?" Draco smoothly asked. "We all have carnal desires. And I wonder if an Animagus is even more liable to the temptation."

"What screw is loose in your head, kid?"

"Don't know what to do, Sirius? Mind if I make a few _suggestions_.... I know you may not have done this in a while."

"Shut up!"

"You're right, I really don't need to talk." And with Sirius nearly choking on the breath fighting to get out of his throat, Malfoy lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it at Sirius, who practically jumped away from it.

"I can't believe this," Sirius said, at a loss. It wasn't exactly common for a hostage to throw themselves at a member of the Order. Needless to add that this hostage being Draco Malfoy raised it to new levels. And in this situation, Sirius doubted even Remus would know what to do.

"My, you're a cold fish." Draco shook his head, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his pants.

"Don't!" Sirius was frozen where he stood. Malfoy dropped his pants and neatly stepped out of them, kicking them to Sirius's feet.

"It's cold out. You could tell by looking at me, but it seems like you're busy studying my clothes. Yes, they're off my body and I am standing here before you nearly bare. That's how the boys used to sleep back at Hogwarts? I'm sure you remember." He paused. "I guess you've forgotten what to do." Sirius could hear him walk over, tenseness rendering his limbs currently shocked out of use. "How long has it been since some guy threw himself at you, Sirius," he purred softly. "All those long years in Azkaban with no companionship. How lonely it must've been." He stopped in front of Sirius, and the man found his eyes trailing up Malfoy's legs to his narrow waist and shallow chest.

"This is insane," he breathed.

"I want nothing more than to get the hell out of this place, Black. And after surviving off of the bones of life for years, I've learned that you do what you can to get what you want. It doesn't matter what it takes, or who _with_ it takes. I understand there are certain rules when it comes to interrogations like these: You can't hurt me, or have any _relations_. Emotional or-" he knelt down, peering up into Sirius's scared eyes "-physical." His fingers crept to Sirius's belt. "And the reason I'm being so truthful with you is that I know you can't resist me." He ripped the strap from the buckle. But Sirius backed hastily away, still looking shellshocked.

He didn't understand what was going on at all. What was he to do? Then he thought of Lupin's face, of Harry back home, and his mission. His jaw clenched. "You don't know who you're talking to, brat. If you think you can just prance around and expect me to give in-"

"-like the dog you are?"

"-then you have another thing coming."

"Actually, I was hoping to just have _you_ coming, Sirius. Remember how good that feels when someone else jerks you off?"

Sirius sneered, "That mouth of yours is disgusting."

"You should feel what this mouth of mine can do, Sirius. But maybe you already have an idea. Pettigrew told me other things about you. That sorry idiot was obsessed with you, Black. He told me how you looked at my father. And he told me about that one day when James Potter came storming back into the common room from following you after Lucius Malfoy. He was upset over _something_ he saw. Something having to do with you and my father. Mind filling me in, and maybe filling me later? Although I certainly can figure out all the pieces just fine on my own, but it's so nice to have a little _help_ every so often."

Shaking his head, Sirius took a large step backwards. When he was in school, he remembered temptation, and he could handle it. Yes, sooner or later he would bugger whoever it was he desired, but he knew he had the will, and the sense to just back away from this. Too bad for Malfoy.

"Sorry to disappoint your _elaborate_ escape plan, Malfoy, but I'm not biting - _anything_. It's actually quite pathetic of you to try such a thing with me. And all this-" he motioned vaguely to the boy's strewn clothing "-is just proof that you are nothing but an ignorant little brat. I'm stronger than you, it's that simple." Shrugging, Sirius brushed passed an impassive Draco and scooped up his drawing board by his cot. He could feel the stony eyes follow him out with silent scorn.

Certainly he'd made a very impressive exit, storming out like that. In school that had always been James's strong point. But now that he was done with his haughty exit and out in the dour cold of the moors with no jacket, he guessed that when James would storm out, he already had a place in mind to storm to. Oh well, his mother had always told him he had trouble planning ahead. With drawing board clutched in his arms, Sirius made a face. He hated it when his mother was right.

The sky was beautiful, all purples and yellows. But he used charcoal to draw. Sometimes he resented the devoid of color, yet in the end black and white always seemed more realistic to him. Every shadow, every stark cut of black on the creamy white paper imprinted images he created or recorded in his mind with a distinct flavor vision can't process with real life color. As if color gets in the way of things, complicates things. Sirius sat back against the flaking wall of the shack. Maybe he drew this way because Azkaban seemed too dead and colorless and it stuck with him, or maybe since he was always going around as a dog - and dogs only see black and white. Thinking about it, Sirius laughed. Leave it to Harry to come up with some strange reason like that.

For some time he watched the plays of light in the sky, clouds developing, retreating into the endless horizon. Until he got a knot in his neck and pitched forward painfully to knead at it with numbed fingers. The drawing board fell off his lap, spilling a few sticks of charcoal and making enough ruckus to cover the creak of the door swinging open. Although Sirius couldn't help but notice when he looked up again, tears watering his eyes as his neck grudgingly loosened, his lips shaping oaths damning old age. Draco was marching out from the house, not sparing a glance at Sirius, who glared at the young wizard bitterly. Just as he had discovered before, there really was no getting away from this kid.

But as he was watching Malfoy kicking at the maroon colored shrubs dotting the expanse of their space, his eyes took on a glaze that only an artist can experience when inspiration strikes; the sinking sun, the black stretching beyond the figure of Draco standing still, and how his shock-white hair stood out against it. Sirius reached for the board and a charcoal stick, smoothing the tip with his finger without looking, and touching the tool to the paper.

While he worked, strands of hair fell into his eyes and he dragged a hand across his forehead, forcing the distraction back in a messy pile on his head. Distantly he was aware of old calluses tempered by the grip he kept on the charcoal, and of the soothing, musical sound of the lines shaping on the paper. Time slipped in and out of cognizance, getting lost in the black and white and shaded gray on the board lying across Sirius's knees.

He held it up, breathing as if he'd just finished a hard run. The charcoal still in his fingers slipped unnoticed down his shaking palm and rolled into a group of pebbles, disappearing among the dusk colored stones.

Black eyes blinked back into focus as Malfoy's voice like a hook dragged them to his face, look of interest melting into a demure expression of Malfoy bred sang-froid; "Why, you looked dazed, Black. A little breathless. Thinking of me?"

Grunting with the cold clinging studiously to his joints, Sirius said callously, "Close; I was thinking of my stewed goose and jellied frog legs that I'm dining on tonight. A delicacy in France."

Malfoy appeared nonplussed, but he smiled. "You should dine on me, Sirius. I'm a delicacy _anywhere_."

* * *

He loved that pantry. It cooked the goose perfectly, and the frog legs were chewy and delicious as well. No one could understand his partiality to the French-born morsel. He'd spent months in France on the run with Buckbeak, and frogs were aplenty then. Both he and the beast enjoyed them night after night over a cheering fire, and so the taste stayed with him pleasantly. Needless to say, the limbs faired differently with Malfoy, who gagged. Sirius kept himself busy with them, appreciating how the boy seemed to keep a distance from the dish.

As Draco was was making furtherance with the mound of goose Sirius kindly left for him, the Animagus perched on his cot, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the boy was still eating while he drew out his drawing board to study it again. The picture started out as a profile, Malfoy against the layered sky. But Sirius had fallen into the contours of Draco's face, the sweep of his neck. Purely caught unawares, Sirius had depicted the boy standing and looking sidelong out from the paper, his eyes an identical slate gray to the unfinished clouds overhead.

With the silence as he studied his work, so came the slow and creeping current of memories, like unchallenged winds blowing over the moor's flat and unyielding face. Of a cold day when the rain shadowed the castle so that Sirius couldn't even see it from the pitch where he sat watching James at practice. He'd been drawing, what could have been a long time after that odd episode with Lucius Malfoy at the base of the Ravenclaw audience tower. On white the lines spun from the charcoal into contouring angles limning a familiar face. Slate gray eyes mirroring the rain soaked clouds stirring above the swirling Gryffindors as they practiced for a game. Sirius couldn't even start to answer the fluky practice of his fingers guiding the charcoal instrument. They were as of yet unused to the charcoal, to the stark black and white that stained the pages.

Sirius stared at the drawing of Draco on the moor. Ever since he was young, he drew. But he'd forgotten that charcoal started when he was in school. He'd forgotten that color didn't suit Lucius Malfoy.

Next to the familiar face was another face; his own. Eerily the two faces stood out lifelike, naturally made of blacks, whites and grays. Black hair, black eyes; white hair, gray eyes. As if this form of art had been made for these faces.

And years later his fingers had found that intimate niche again of whites and blacks and grays, that perfect combination that illustrated a face that this form of art was made for.

Sirius lay silently in his bed, watching the embers of the fire dying out through the caged black door of the stove. The red was vibrant, hypnotizing him, and lulling him to sleep at the same time. He was drained, hedgingly blaming his age again and the cold outside seeping in. Remaining focused on those fading embers, Sirius let his lids lower of their own accord.

It was Malfoy's voice again that brought him crashing back into reality. This time though, it was accompanied by a lithe body barreling into his bed.

"Oops, looks like I've got the wrong cot."

"Damn right you do," Sirius fumed, completely unamused. "And I suggest you redirect yourself before I throw you out."

Draco lifted the cover. "Let's not be too hasty, it might the right bed after all." He curled his legs and began to unfurl them under the blanket.

Much too tired to play games, Sirius growled, hurling himself out of bed and stomping over to Malfoy's untouched mattress. The boy pouted. Then, getting an idea as Draco smartly rose to his feet, implying that he would only follow Sirius if he moved, the rumpled man went to the pantry, took out a sludging bowl of uncooked bloated frog legs - poured it over his head - and came back to lie down in his own cot, tugging the blankets up desmisevely and giving a resounding snort before settling down.

Draco made a face. "That's a low move, Black."

Sirius yawned. "I just don't seem to have a taste for you, brat. I'll gladly stick to _my_ delicacy: frog legs." He opened one eye. "You're just a spoiled recipe."

* * *

A/N: (_gasping for breath_) All that dialogue exchange tires me out!! It's _hard_ coming up with sexual repartee. (_grins_) I should make tee-shirts. (_waltzes around bearing 'I'm A Delicacy Anywhere' across her chest_) 

**Villain**


	4. Interchange

A/N: THANX TO....  
Gabo0: Sirius is just so fun to mess with!  
Drupadi: I should totally start a business, and you could be my first customer!  
Lothlorien1: Their banter IS so fun! Glad you like it!  
Sarkywoman: (_gushes_) Glad I could be of service!  
GLEH: You know, I was tempted to somehow fit in leather&whips!Draco... but I didn't.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Interchange**

The stench of frog leg juice kept Draco at bay for most of the week. Instead, the boy shouted taunts and teases from a safe distance. Eventually though, the feeling of drying juice over his skin became too much even for Sirius and he cleaned himself with soapy water in a bucket derived from the pantry.

As he washed, Draco was watching him with a maddening smile on his face.

"Nothing like a good rub down, eh Black?"

"Leave it."

"I see your making headway with that revolting stuff. Maybe later you can make some headway in me. The offer still stands, strong and erect."

"And my rejection still stands."

"Why don't we turn that rejection into ejaculation - they sound so close. And really they are; only separated by a simple 'yes'. Well, a simple yes and some honest back work." He grinned.

Sirius looked up at the blonde twit with a disgusted expression, soap trailing down between his eyes as he wrung out the sponge over his head. "I really hope you decide to give this up soon."

"I'll give up as soon as you fuck me."

That term sent nasty chills up his spine. He looked away from Malfoy, intent upon holding a towel (also from the generous pantry) to cover himself while the boy sat obtrusively close with prying eyes. Luckily he had kept his knickers on, otherwise he would have been completely exposed when Draco ripped away the towel before. But he'd thought ahead and was thoroughly satisfied at Malfoy's pouty disappointment, towel hanging limply in his hand as if in reflection.

"You're not getting an area on your back," Draco informed him, reaching for the sponge. Sirius laughed.

"It's for good luck," he sneered. The boy withdrew his hand, shrugging.

"Just trying to help."

"I think I've made it clear that I don't want your help in any size, shape, or form. Can't you go amuse yourself somehow?" Sirius gruffly squeezed the sponge. Draco hopped off his cot and sauntered to the door.

"I'll just go think of you." He brushed his hand over his crotch, and winked. "But I'll do it out of sight. Don't want to make you _uncomfortable_ or anything."

His mouth twisted in repulsion. "Keep things to yourself, brat."

"But sharing with others is such an important value, Sirius."

"Get out of my sight."

"Not out of your mind though." Pushing through to the outside, Draco blew Sirius a lazy kiss, which the man sneered at.

Damn him, Sirius seethed, strangling the sponge and sending water splashing onto the floorboards. He'd been relentless for days, blocking Sirius's assigned questions with his.... baiting. The boy was obnoxious, arrogant, crude.

Was is just Fate's cruelty that those same words were used to describe Sirius back in school?

For the millionth time Sirius looked up at the dark slant of the shack's ceiling and questioned, 'Why me?' Dumbledore, Remus, McGonnagal; they were all crazy. Just as crazy as that damned kid. Or maybe _he_ was the one going crazy. If that was the case, he'd soon be out eight galleons.

* * *

"You want to."

"Shut up."

"Snap, Sirius. Just snap so we can both leave."

"I won't leave until you've answered every question I have."

"Ask me while we're making passionate love."

"That's a new way of propositioning."

"I gathered that maybe tenderness was your thing."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Figured that was a long shot."

They were sitting across from each other at the round table, Sirius having just completed a series of five patient questions. A small circlet of unique metal glinted in corn silk blonde hair. Sirius wore one similar. They were thought trackers, used like bloodhounds to seek out any trailing memories linked to the present question. Yet somehow Malfoy had built a strong barrier. Whenever Sirius posed a question, in his mind's eye there would appear a solid black wall. And as a clever jest, little pictures of a nude Draco covered the boundary, all shaking their asses.

Draco shoved a heaping spoonful of cereal into his mouth, milk running out the corners of his mouth. Sirius couldn't cipher why the boy would even try his sexual games when he ate. It was a contradiction. Scratching his chin, the shadow thick and bristly, he crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back. Malfoy chewed thoughtfully on his breakfast.

"Let's start again."

Putting down his spoon and dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, Draco said loudly, "I don't want to answer questions, I want out of this hell." He steepled his fingers and smiled politely.

"Answer the questions, and you get out."

"Cut off your arm, and you'll bleed to death." He tilted his head. "Still don't get it? Cut of your dick and you'll never be happy again. You know that Sirius, I'll bet it was that Werewolf who bit it off."

Sirius felt his blood getting hot, but his expression remained nonchalant. "You're only betraying yourself by not talking, Malfoy. Think of all the others; they would trade your life for a scrap of food."

"Think that helps? But if you want to use that against me; then I won't sink to their level." He crossed his arms waspishly over his chest.

"I don't think you can sink any lower than where you are, Draco."

He thought he saw something in Draco's eyes shift, like a change in light when it begins to rain. In a sudden torrent of movement, the young man ripped the circlet from his head and threw it down. The table rocked as he shoved away from it, running out of the shack. Sirius rose after him, catching the door as it slammed back. He looked outside, and stifled his voice.

Draco had hit the barrier, banging his fists against the invisible wall, kicking violently. He beat at it like a wild thing, his hair becoming damp with sweat that streamed down his flushed face. Sirius returned into the cottage, staring out the window as Draco stumbled away from the wall and screamed, his whole body contorted, doubled over. And as the boy fell to his knees, fingers clawing at the boundary, Sirius felt ultimately calm. Prisoners had done that often in Azkaban, but they had been scraping at invisible walls that only existed in their head. These walls around him were very real. He sighed deeply, massaging his temples as Draco started prowling the border line like an animal in a tiny cage, occasionally lashing out with his limbs or his voice, the words faint and distant through the window.

When evening came and Sirius finished his spiced drink, he rested his hand against the glass of the window and frowned. The cold stained his bones and ran his veins raw with ice. Having lost sight of the boy hours ago, Sirius hastened to the outside, eyes darting over the black expanse. Walking out in the middle of their area, he finally found Draco, curled up at the base of the partition, fingers bruised and blue with cold, lips dark purple. Even his eyelids were dark, like crushed blueberries. Sirius scooped the limp body up and carried him back in, getting a fire going strong and pulling a chair over to perch the frozen wizard in.

A blanket from the pantry went around Draco's naked shoulders. He had been wearing only a thin cotton shirt. As for his trousers, Sirius didn't touch them, but he did bring the bucket and sponge filled with steaming hot water over to start thawing Draco's hands and feet. After rubbing color back into the skin, Sirius took some of the water in a cup and poured it between Draco's lips. The boy swallowed slowly, eyes fluttering open. When they focused on Sirius, a terrible expression became his face.

He hissed, "I can always sink lower, Black. You're a prime example of that. There is nothing lower than your kind of filth."

"Always the last word. Some thanks, brat."

But Draco kept talking, voice gaining volume. "All of those fools you bother to save, and all of the idiots you work with. A ringleader leading a pack of clowns." His breath whistled through his stiff lips. "And we can't forget the Golden Boy, now can we? Your pathetic mascot. Ironic though, isn't it? You made him an orphan - every tear he ever shed for his parents is stained with their blood, blood that you spilt. And you have him parading around as some kind of savior - like some kind of animal on display. All of us on the other side find it _so_ amusing, the way you have been milking the Potter family for all they're worth. Using them, using Harry like an old tired whore. That's what he is, a whore to you and your pitiful cause."

Sirius's black eyes blazed with a sudden intense fire. Outrage grew thick and hot under his brow. Anger worse than before sprung like an evil fountain, pouring into his veins and heating the skin up his neck and over his face. The brat looked pleased by his reaction, relaxing back into the chair, but Sirius seized his shoulders, wrenching him up.

Draco gasped, awakening sensation tromping through his prickling feet. Angry himself, he glared up into Sirius's eyes, shaping words of protest. But any words died on his tongue at Sirius's expression. It was dangerous, one Draco had only seen on his father's face. He shrunk down, trying to wrestle away.

Teeth gritted, Sirius shoved Draco back, knocking him over the chair. The boy went sprawling to the ground, landing heavily on his hip. A sharp cry just fueled Sirius's rampage and he kicked the chair aside, striding towards Draco's cowering form, standing over him, his chest heaving with suppressed fury. His knees narrowly missed snapping Malfoy's ankles as he slammed to the floor, thumbs stabbing into Draco's delicate collarbone. The blonde wizard gasped in fright, eyes wide like sleeted windows. His hands came to grip Sirius's wrists, pulling at them. Drunk on the rush of power, Sirius shook Draco hard, jarring the boy's chin against his chest.

"Stop-" Draco was gasping shallowly "-you're hurting me!" But then he stopped, a curious look in his eyes. He closed them, and went limp, his head tossing back and forth harder.

It hit Sirius, drenching him in cold, what Draco was doing. He _wanted_ Sirius to hurt him. Taking his hands away quickly, he waited for the Aurors to come crashing down on him, grabbing his arms and yanking him back from the hostage. He waited for the disappointed, disgusted faces of his colleagues. But it never came. Nothing happened. Draco's eyes snapped open, rushing to Sirius's own fearful face. The boy looked slightly panicky.

In their mutual anticipation they found a certain camaraderie. That quickly dissolved as Draco's eyes grew wide and he dragged himself away from Sirius, nursing his side and carrying a look of complete loss.

"They're not coming," he whispered, the fair color of his face and hair all at once making him seem very young.

Sirius realized that the boy spoke the truth. He had harmed a hostage, and the Order had not been aware. They really were alone out here.

'Awkward' barely contained the emotions hanging pregnant in the room. Sirius was still staring at the spot where Malfoy had fallen, in a sort of trance. And Draco was gazing at Sirius, deathly pale. All of the comments, all of the taunts came flooding back to mind. He regretted every one now.

They weren't coming.

There was no promise of escape, or at least someone besides Black to perform the interrogation. No hope left for Snape to come to the rescue, or someone he could lie to like the Werewolf, Lupin.

As reality set in, Sirius realized calmly that he was still angry. He also realized that Malfoy couldn't run his mouth off anymore, not without Sirius doing anything about it. He looked sidelong at the former Slytherin, calm.

Sirius wasn't a bad person. He wasn't cruel, he wasn't thoughtless. Yet he had it in him, a flake of something cold that enabled him years ago in school to torture silly Snivelus. James thought his passion for revenge was tasteless and childish. But James couldn't know, and no one else _would_ know. A dark part of Sirius peaked its ugly head, listing all the heartless tactics the boy had pulled on him for the past weeks. He felt _mean_.

"What? Don't you have anything to say, Malfoy." Draco flinched at every word. Sirius brushed his fingers through his dark hair; something he did often back in school. "I still have so many buttons. Don't you feel like pushing tonight?" On his knees, he moved closer to the boy. "Any friend you haven't insulted, memories you haven't shredded? Levels you haven't sunk to?" When he said the last words, he nudged Draco's chin with his thumb, hard.

"Stop it," Draco said weakly, eyes listlessly on the floor. "Leave me alone." He felt utterly deflated. Even the fire crackling nearby didn't shed warmth through the abrupt case of quiet despair he was experiencing. Black was close by, he knew that. His sharpened fear told him that much. The stinking dog was near and aware of the power he had all of a sudden inherited over Draco. A power that could not be denied by physical resistance, but by mercy. His gaze bored into the floor, teeth quietly scraping as they clenched.

"Leave you alone? I thought those words didn't have any meaning to you." Sirius craned over, hair falling in a veil over half his face. He still couldn't catch the former Slytherin's eyes, but he was able to see the slight quiver of his chin. An insatiable ambiance pulsed around him, and he delved his hand into Malfoy's hair. When no response came, his fingers tangled in the pale locks. "What was it you said? 'I want nothing more than to get the hell out of this place'? 'I've learned that you do what you can to get what you want. It doesn't matter what it takes, or who with it takes.'?" His grip tightened, slightly arching Draco's head back. "You understood that there are certain rules when it comes to interrogations like these. I can't hurt you. Emotionally or-" Sirius yanked his face close "-physically."

"Let me go," Draco whimpered, eyes still cast defiantly to the side.

"I don't think I will, Malfoy." He let go of the blonde's hair and instead touched the boy's soft cheek. "Why don't we try this a different way; apologize."

That brought those gray eyes round, alive with a mutinous fire.

"I don't apologize to filthy mutts like you, Black."

"No, you just whore yourself out to them."

"Saying sorry is admitting I was wrong. And I wasn't wrong; about anything I said. You're a nothing, Black. Your friends and loved ones aren't worth the ground I walk on."

"That so," Sirius murmured, his thumb brushing the soft skin under Draco's left eye. "Well, all that you said has made me very angry, _Draco_. And I think it's safe to point out that the tables have turned and you are not in a position to insult anyone right now. Actually," he raised his chin so that his lips brushed Draco's forehead, "now that I'm calling the shots, I say you get in a position to take back everything you've said. And I promise, you'll be taking anything I give you, and in any position I want." The boy stiffened against him. "You dug this hole, and you'll be the one to fill it back up." He looked into ardent gray eyes, alive with renewed vivacity, and smirked.

"Shove off, Black," Draco snarled, like a cornered animal. His lips drew back from his teeth savagely and he shoved Sirius's hands away.

He neatly caught the boy's thin wrists in one hand, pressing them with all his weight to the floor. "What, you don't feel like fulfilling all of those lovely promises you made?" Lips curling in sweet malice, Sirius quickly grabbed Draco about the waist with his other arm, dragging him into his lap. The boy glared at him, with smoldering eyes, cut by stripes of white-blonde hair fallen into his face; his body curved because of his anchored hands. "I'll answer a question for you," Sirius muttered against the boy's ear; "how good it feels to have someone else jerk you off." Draco's breath puffed erratically against his neck, and Sirius could picture the struggling fright in the gray eyes. As the sun's shadow drew lines across the floor, Sirius moved his hand down between the young wizard legs, squeezing gently. Draco's breathy gasp made him close his eyes, near-tears tottering on the brink of his lids. Yes, it had been so long.

Draco's freed hands pressed weakly in protest against Sirius's square chest, making delicate claws out of thin white fingers. The bitter grip Sirius had on him was sickeningly intoxicating. "You can't do this-"

"But I am," Sirius corrected, eyes hungrily devouring the sight of Draco's partially open mouth. "You've pushed me too far."

"It's wrong," Draco reasoned, his spine twisting as he tried to wriggle out of the embrace. "What you're doing is wrong!"

"Wrong," Sirius scoffed, "That fact didn't seem to bother you before." He rammed his palm into Malfoy's groin spitefully, enjoying the rebellious edge to Draco's muffled moan. "And who are you to distinguish between right and wrong?"

Draco shook his head, biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood, and trying to keep silent. But Sirius's words struck him and he stopped struggling, staring at the older wizard. "You're serious."

"And you're about to eat your words, because I _am_ Sirius."

The words poured out of him; "You're old enough to be my father."

"And you're old enough to be taught a lesson." Sirius arched his head forward, engulfing Draco's scandalized mouth with his own. The boy reacted quickly, snapping his lips shut, but Sirius roughly took hold of his chin and squeezed, hard enough that Draco was forced to unclench his jaw. Sirius shoved his tongue inside Draco's mouth, lips searing the boy's with suppressed heat older than just the interrogation time span. His need began to burn between his legs, reacting to the conscious weight of Draco's hips resting tensely against his. Long fingers ran through silky blonde hair that felt exactly like Lucius's, pinched and rubbed skin that smelled like the older Malfoy. He even tasted like Lucius, a flavor Sirius had never lost since the fleeting kiss they shared out in the rain that day. There was only one difference; this mouth was cold and unresponsive. Draco was like a rag doll in his arms, gray eyes squeezed tightly shut; not in pleasure, but in pain. Sirius scowled, jerking Draco back and digging his fingers into the blonde's soft upper arms. "Old enough to be your father."

The boy's eyes were far colder and more distant than Sirius had ever seen as he slowly wiped away a spot of blood from his lip. Smoldering defiance flared from him. "You're old enough to be my _Godfather_."

Harry.

Sirius threw Draco away from him, watching in outrage as the boy fell onto his back. Then, trying to dispel the vengeful guilt arising in his chest, he yanked Malfoy up by his arm and slapped him viciously across the face.

"Never mention my Godson!"

"I never mentioned Potter. That was your own perverse guilt." There was a stark red print marring the pale skin of Malfoy's face. His eye was watering on his right side where Sirius had struck him.

Before either could speak further, there was a stiff knock at the door. At first, Sirius thought it was the wind, but there it was again, harder this time. He rose slowly, his eyes willing the red mark on Malfoy's cheek to fade faster. By the third series of knocks, they could tell that whoever was on the other side was becoming agitated. Then a voice:

"Sirius? Honestly, Sirius, it's biting out here!"

It was Remus.

Horror and happiness surged together to create an anxiety sharp and exact. Sirius glanced at Draco to see the boy on his feet, shrugging the cotton garb back onto his shoulders. Hands shaking, he rushed to the door and pulled it open, glaring medium light across Lupin's tired features.

"Sirius," the auburn-haired wizard said, a weary smile lighting his eyes. He stepped into the cottage, welcoming himself in with an embrace around Sirius. The other man returned it too slowly, and Lupin drew back with amusement. "Not glad to see me, I take it?"

Remus's body felt so different from Draco's. It was soft and pliant, and so familiar. Warm.

"No, no!" Sirius assured him, shaking his head and laughing tightly. He could barely see Draco moving out of his peripheral vision. "It's just been cold. Takes a lot of persuasion to open that door." Remus seemed to buy it, patting Sirius heartily on the back.

"Not to be rude, but may I heat up some tea for us all?" Remus moved passed Sirius, smiling at Draco. He went to the pantry, pulling out a whistling kettle. As he poured, his warm amber eyes took in the flushed healthy color of Sirius's cheeks. "Been out to watch the sunrises?"

"Never up that early," Sirius grated out. The moment Moony turned to the pantry for cups, he shot Draco a dark look. But the boy didn't seem aware of him. He walked lightly into the kitchen, taking a cup from a surprised Remus and pouring out tea for all three of them. When he handed Sirius his cup, the Auror caught a fleeting glimpse of something that made his heart skip in an unpleasant way.

Draco had a small, incensed smile on his face.

Remus sat down on Sirius's bed, holding his teacup tightly. "Nothing like a good cup to warm your insides." Taking a slow sip, the werewolf closed his eyes and let the perfectly tempered liquid bathe his throat. His sip grew into a long draw and soon nothing but steam puffed into his mouth. Chuckling slightly, he put the cup down, opening his mouth to excuse himself. Just now it dawned on him, as his jaw froze, that Draco and Sirius hadn't touched their tea. They hadn't _moved_. And Draco was staring at him, fixedly. In turn, Sirius was looking at the boy with a terrible expression. Remus frowned, and cleared his throat.

Draco blinked, and Sirius jerked around.

"I had hoped my visit would alleviate certain tensions."

Sirius abruptly shot up, clutching his tea cup to his chest. "Let's go outside, Moony."

"You'll freeze," said Draco sharply.

"Sirius?" Remus ventured faintly.

"We'll wear coats."

"Lupin wore a coat, and he seemed to mind the cold very much."

"So we'll wear _lots_ of coats."

"Why Sirius, are you _avoiding_ me? Trying to isolate Lupin?"

"I see you've gotten your mouth back."

"Yes, Sirius. You failed in trying to knock it off my face."

Remus meekly interjected. "Padfoot," he murmured. "What have you done to him?"

"Nothing," Sirius growled.

"He's lying, Lupin." Draco's eyes beseeched the frayed wizard. "The prevention didn't work. The Aurors never came."

Sirius took a threatening step towards the boy. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"What is going on here!?"

"Difficulties," Sirius spat through clenched teeth.

"Well, are they disrupting the process?"

"No, I know how to deal with them."

Face paling, Draco ran to Remus and gripped his shoulders. "Don't go! Take me out of here, or bring someone else. I won't be left alone with him." His eyes filled with disturbingly real tears. "He'll-" he faltered helplessly.

Over the anxious blonde's shoulder, Remus met Sirius's eyes. "What am I supposed to think of this?"

"You're supposed to know that I'm close to cracking this safe, and getting valuable information. He knows it, too. We've seen this tactic before, Moony. Pity, tears. We've come so far already."

Remus looked apologetically back at Draco. "Think of all the lives you're saving."

"He's well aware," Sirius assured, meaningful gaze resting heavly across the boy's shoulders.

Dropping his eyes, Draco grimaced.

Shortly after, Remus left with plenty of comforting lies from Sirius. The boy though, looking disheveled from the inside out, sat slumped on his cot, staring at the floor.

When Sirius came back into the cottage, rubbing feeling back into his hands, Draco was standing in the middle of the floor, looking wearily defiant, resembling again the spindly creature that Sirius had kidnapped from the bowels of Malfoy Manor.

"Just because you can beat me doesn't mean you'll get any answers."

Sirius crossed his arms and leaned back against the door, shrugging. "Arguable."

A biting retort bubbled up to his lips, but Draco doused the fire burning in his chest and his shoulders sunk. He brought his hands up to cover his face.

Thoughts are funny things, and Sirius was struck by a doozy as Draco's shoulders started trembling. His face brightened, and he gleefully whistled the familiar tune as he opened the pantry and found what he had expected to be there. Beaming, he brushed the small clump into his pocket and patted it. Then he turned back to the broken boy. Kneeling down in front of his deafeated charge, Sirius gripped the boy's shoulders and roused a distant gray gaze. "Now let's try this thing again, shall we? I'm in a good mood," he jingled his pocket, "especially since you just earned me eight more galleons."

* * *

A/N: Well, that says it all; there's money at the core of everything. According to some dead guy in my history book, all the money hungering is in part to our decaying society. (_nodding enthusiastically_) Yeah, and now writing that in words, I think I'm going to get a new history book, a happy history book. A history book with... not so much history.

**Villain**


	5. Truth Be Told

THANX TO.....(p) **GaboO**: Glad I made yeh happy! (I like seeing him vulnerable too!)  
**Annie**: Aw, I'm blushing, thank you!  
**Sarkywoman**: I don't even know how dark Sirius can get... we'll see!  
**sugar**: Here it is, enjoy!  
**GLEH**: Danka, dearie. **Inhi**: I always get my Christmas prezzies out late anyway...  
**Lothlorien1**: Urg, I hope you like this one!

A/N: Arg! I'm so unsure about this chapter. The choppiness and constant change is derived from indecision. So... please be patient with me!

* * *

**Chapter Five: Truth Be Told**

He had made sure breakfast was warm and entirely unexotic. But the boy still wouldn't touch anything. Sirius had gone so far as to leave the toast dry, the milk untainted by swirls of cinnamon, and that was it. There was nothing else at all. And for some reason, he felt obligated to suffer along and scarf down the bland meal if need be. Yet he felt pressured not to eat either, and that annoyed him. Usually he wouldn't be bothered, but things had changed. He wasn't the defiant one anymore. The tables had turned a full three-sixty. This new authority bestowed upon him by unpredicted circumstances was just wearing off the glitter of that rush, and leaving behind a stark downer. Responsibility grew, and knowing that there was no supervision made Sirius nervous. That, of course, made him feel old. For the firt time in his life he was disdaining no supervision.

The fire was crackling away in the stove, spitting jumping spots of light over the cots; Draco's unslept in, Sirius's a mass of sheets and blankets in a tangle. For three nights, since Remus left, the boy hadn't slept. He hadn't spoken either, nor looked up from the floor. Sirius figured he was trying to make himself invisible. The boy had regressed back to his former state of wary silence, after going through the full cycle: quiet, defiant, obnoxious, defiant, quiet. But that wasn't going to work. And neither was this weak vie for death by starvation.

"Eat."

As had become the norm, Draco didn't respond. Sirius leaned out of his chair and pushed the plate of toast closer to the silent figure, his own stomach grumbling impatiently. But Draco still didn't move.

"Either your hand or my hand is going to get that food in your mouth."

Slowly, Draco lifted his head, feeling every muscle in his neck creak from disuse. His eyeballs felt heavy and dry in their sockets, each blaring vein throbbing with unrest. "Not hungry." His voice was like old parchment.

"We've already established that 'No' is not an answer I particularly appreciate. Now eat."

"I'll just throw it up."

"You'll keep it down."

"You can't make-" He stopped, and wisely. But he'd gone too far already; Sirius was on his feet and standing beside him instantaneously. Draco winced, and reached forward with a shaking hand to pick up the piece of stiff toast. He put it to his lips, nauseated by the dry smell. Sirius's stomach was nearly against his elbow, and with wooden resolve, he took a mealy bite.

"That's a good boy," Sirius cooed.

When the wizard turned away from him, Draco spit the bite out and crushed the bread in his hand, crumbs spraying from the spaces between his fingers.

If the boy got too angry, than the cycle would start all over again. Enough time had passed, Sirius decided. Three days since the interesting turn of events seemed ample space for each of them to adapt. Admittedly, learning that he had complete authority in this situation was much easier to swallow than what the brat had to digest, but there was still the fact that he told Remus headway had been made. So now he had twice the ground to cover before Remus decided to visit them again.

He was hesitant though. Over the past three days, Sirius had spent more time outside drawing, keeping his distance from the boy. There was a darker side to this, a side he wasn't sure if he'd be able to control. Anger held center stage at times, when he looked at Malfoy and remembered all of those nasty things, and tortuously appealing things as well. Desire, lust. Mulling over all those opportunities when he could have accepted the boy's forged offer, now that he knew there existed no consequence. He wouldn't think about that. There are demons in everyone's closet. His were deep, his were layered and secret. Sometimes, recently most of all, he thought of how wrong he was for this job. And sometimes, less frequent, he felt glad for this rare chance. Draco looked exactly like his father, and those demons in the closet were restless.

But Sirius didn't want those demons to surface unprovoked. To justify his willingness to loose them, he used Draco as an excuse. That excuse was already paid in full by this time, and Sirius wanted to exploit the advantage he had scored. And yet the boy had relapsed, becoming an empty thing again. There was prior shame stinking up the demon's unrest. Sirius still needed a reason to go off. It was wrong, it was low, it was Slytherin-like. But Sirius had his reasons, and his justifications. Draco had to do something, and he'd have him. There was still a button left, unlabeled, set on hair-trigger.

"This quiet can't go on forever. It's amazing to think you still have nothing to say." He grabbed the back of Draco's chair and turned it sharply, walking back around to his front. "Now the questions start."

Immediately Draco seemed to shut down. His jaw tightened even more, bringing light to a vein on his forehead; his eyes became intensely focused on the floor. In his lap, his white hands were twined together. Like a snake coiling up into itself, venom collecting in its fangs.

"A few practice queries to start sounds right." He leaned back in the chair he had pulled up, arms crossed behind his head. "Who is your father?" He just wanted to see that name on those lips. The demons stirred.

"Your infatuation."

That last button clicked, and Sirius grinned. "Still the know-it-all. I'm glad, I was starting to miss that side of you. Please, indulge me."

"You'd like that wouldn't you? Just because my father never did." He flinched when Sirius shifted, a hot shade of red creeping over his face. "Don't think I am in the dark, Black. You're waiting to use me in my father's place, only because I have no choice. But I'll fight you, because you're pathetic."

"Here you are, with no control," Sirius mused, reaching forward and unabashedly undoing the buttons down Draco's shirt, "telling me I'm pathetic. And it's just more amusing than ever before."

His wiry fingers dug into Sirius's wrists, tearing them away, ripping the last few buttons of his shirt off entirely. "I still have control."

Sirius devoured the sight of Draco's exposed flesh, as the shirt slid off his shoulders. "Then you have an odd sense of control."

"I wouldn't assume, Sirius," Draco whispered. "I'm a Malfoy, if you recall. We are always in control."

"What is it you have up your sleeve this time?" He pulled the shirt from the boy's body and jokingly shook it, "I don't see anything."

"Then look closer, Sirius." Draco drew his hands over his torso, Sirius going still, enamored. "Though only looking isn't fun for anybody, is it?" Trembling, Draco swallowed uneasily. Catching his shallow breath, breaching the divide between him and Sirius, he pressed himself to the older wizard, littering his face with soft butterfly kisses, hands tugging at the hem of Sirius's worn sweater.

Just like the first jolting change in the blond boy, the same triple decker knight bus slammed into Sirius, knocking the wind out of him. Finding his feet, the Auror covered Draco's mouth firmly. "I don't even know how to ask."

"Then be quiet, Sirius. Mouths aren't only for talking."

"Stop."

"Let me do this-"

"This is your control? I-" he was cut off sharply as a strong hand dove between his legs and suddenly a hot mouth was pushing against his, fingers tearing at the fastenings on his pants. His eyes were wide with surprise, and the fact that he was feeling sensations that had been absent for a shamefully long time kept those lids apart equally. And though he would have gladly shut them and participated in this unexpected bliss, Sirius shoved the young wizard off him.

He fell back onto the floor, his mouth red and his cheeks glowing.

"Catch your breath, Draco, because you have some explaining to do."

"Why are you so confusing!?" Draco yelled, tears leaping to his eyes. "Stop toying with me."

"Toying- me with you?" That eight galleons seemed to be getting lighter and lighter. "You have your breath now?- explain."

"There is no explanation. The only thing that matters is you're getting what you want."

"And of course my happiness has always been top priority on your list. Why, that makes perfect sense, Malfoy."

"Who cares." He got to his feet. "I'm here, you can have me."

"That damned cycle."

"What?" Draco looked nervous.

"Oh, nothing."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"You're shaking."

"Anticipation, Sirius." A familiar demure look seeped into his eyes, but it was hollow. "No one's coming- but we can change that." He seemed to wince at his own words. "Don't you want me?"

"Ah." Sirius shook his head, laughing into his hands. "I see what you're doing. Very clever. For a moment I was beginning to doubt you're Malfoyness."

He looked even more nervous, almost haggard. "What?"

"I'm still in control. Don't try to twist my logic. I do what I want."

"And I'm only encouraging you, Sirius."

"Just like the first time you pulled this stunt? It won't work, not this time."

"Sirius," he begged.

But Sirius grabbed him and pulled him close, shutting his mouth with his. Draco went limp in his arms, opening his mouth and-

"What are you doing!?"

Draco stumbled back, blinking. "I'm giving you what you want."

"This is too much," Sirius stated. "I'm going out in the cold. And don't you even think about manipulating that into some twisted take on sex-"

"No, Sirius," Draco fell to his knees. "Listen to me."

"No. You've poisoned my mind. I always should keep in mind not to trust a Malfoy. Sacrilegious people are never to be trusted."

"Sacri-" Draco shook his head.

"That's enough! I'm going outside-" Sirius jabbed his finger at the door, "And you're not going to follow me with your lascivious self!" With that, he stormed outside, slamming the door shut behind him.

Draco sat in silence, numb and still shaking. "Whatever it takes," he whispered. As long as Sirius's mind was off the issue of questioning, Draco was satisfied. If he could hold off Sirius somehow, than the Auror would be replaced. But what he was prepared to do was terrifying him. Luckily, the man reacted the way he did; that gave Draco time. But the wizard would return, perhaps with a different attitude towards Draco's offer. The boy lifted a quaking hand to his face. "Whatever it takes," he repeated, and began to strip.

* * *

After several hours of pacing, until his feet turned into stones and he fell onto his face, Sirius decided to approach the confounding brat again and teach him something about who was in charge.

"Listen-" he thundered, bursting in through the door "- I'm the one in charge here and whatever scheme you-" He stopped dead. "I- I..."

"Actions speak louder than words, Sirius," Draco purred huskily, lying back on Sirius's cot, "And I'm cold."

Coughing, Sirius choked out, "Some clothes might help that."

"You don't want me in clothes, Sirius. You want me naked in bed, and here I am." He turned his body slightly, and the sheets tangled around his legs came loose. Sirius took a step back.

"I don't understand."

"Come to bed, Sirius."

"Not until I get some answers."

"Sirius."

"I know I've asked this before, but what screw is loose in your head?"

"I'm giving you what you want."

"Well, I'm not taking it. You have something in mind."

"The only thing on my mind is that when I grabbed you, I felt something hard. And I'm specifically tempting that part of you."

"Why? You're bluntness has suddenly disappeared, right at a time when I could appreciate it."

"Then I will be blunt. You fuck me, and that buys me time."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "That _is_ blunt." "And hopefully appealing."

Running his fingers appraisingly over Draco's thigh, his eyes piercing, his smile sensual, Sirius said smoothly, "Now _I'll_ be blunt: there is no way in hell I'm buying that. I have a job to do, and whether you do what I want willingly, or unwillingly; I get what I need. Without consent required." He roughly tore the sheets away. Draco gasped, his whole body constricting. "It's awfully sweet of you to save me the trouble of wrestling you out of your clothes."

His breath swept out of him, and Draco gasped, trying to retrieve it. He'd been so sure it would work.

"Why in the world are you looking so surprised? It turns out the same, except that I'll be doing my job. And, of course, you'll be doing jobs as well."

"Like hell, Black." He started to rise, but Sirius planted a hand right in the middle of his chest, knocking him back down, and following with his whole body. It felt like the air was being crushed out of him, and Draco beat his fists against Sirius's chest. "Get the hell off me!"

"Questions first. Easy ones, like why you were shaking before?"

"That was all in your mind."

"You're shaking right now."

"That's only because you weigh a ton. I'm worried about getting crushed."

Sirius chuckled, and ground his hips into Draco's, forcing the boy to look at him as he tried to turn away. "Why were you shaking?"

"I wasn't shaking."

He grabbed a thin wrist and held it up. All the way to the tips of the white fingers, Draco was trembling. Sirius met his lowered eyes. "Are you scared of me?"

"You couldn't scare a fly if you tried, Black. It's cold out."

"Let me warm you up."

"I'd rather throw myself into the fire."

"You change your tune awfully fast."

"Circumstances have changed."

"We'll see." Sirius laid his hand flat against Draco's belly, gently stroking it. The boy pressed his head back into the pillow, jaw tightening. A light dawned in Sirius's head. He'd been in this position before, back in school- he couldn't remember the boy's name. "What if I promised you would enjoy yourself?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"Are you saving yourself for someone? Because referring to past behaviors, anyone can count."

Draco tensed. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Just say it."

"I have nothing to say." He relaxed a little.

"This talk won't go on forever, so there's no reason you should be relaxing. Not when you're lying naked here." His hand traveled lower.

"No-"

"Just say it."

"I don't know-"

"Yes, you do. That slimy bastard Pettigrew had been right when he told you I was a flirt back in school. And I did use the Shrieking Shack for my... entertainment. I was a learned lover, you could say. I knew things, I could sense things about people right off, at first glance." Fingers twining in the boy's hair, Sirius continued. "It's been a while, and I'm rusty. That's why it took me so long to see through you. Before, when you thought you'd had me, when you and I both thought that the Aurors were watching-" He broke off. Draco knew, he could see it in his eyes. "Now say it." He began kissing down Draco's torso, lower, and lower. The boy was taught as a wire, and he slowly drew his hand over the milky thighs. Then, smirking, he shoved Draco's legs apart.

"I never thought anything would happen! I figured the Aurors would come before you could do anything to me. But now..."

"Absolutely right."

"You're cruel."

"And you're a virgin."

"You think you can use that against me."

"Absolutely, positively right."

"I hate you."

"I've heard that tune before. Never liked it much."

"Please stop."

"Getting impatient, want me to just get it over with?"

"No! Just... stop a second."

"Was Malfoy Manor the last stronghold on your side?"

"Not a literal second. I meant more like a couple minutes."

"You seem to know a lot for a virgin." Shifting, Sirius lay beside the boy, his arm going around his waist.

"I did go to school. With other adolescents."

"Reasonable excuse. Now, we can do this with the thought trackers, or without. And since you don't seem to be a fan of wearing anything, I'm guessing you'd rather just battle it out orally."

"I thought you were giving me a few minutes."

"It's been a few minutes," Sirius murmured, dragging Draco's face over and kissing him deeply. And nothing had ever tasted so good. He opened his mouth wider, and to his pleasant surprise, Draco complied, their tongues massaging hotly. It lasted longer than Sirius could have hoped, Draco putting up a worthy effort to keep up. His inexperience seemed so apparent now, but that only made Sirius want him more. He'd been the teacher before, and it was all coming back now. It was his favorite role.

All that yelling had been for nothing, Draco decided. Sirius seemed to be enjoying himself, and as long as he occupied the wizard's mouth, questions couldn't.

* * *

A/N: Yes, a sudden ending--I know. The next chapter will start virtually right where this one ends. But I had to stop. As you can probably tell, I am as confused as Draco and Sirius! This story is becoming more and more like Hansel and Gretel without the breadcrumbs. Hope you guys can hang on for all the twists and turns, I have a distinct feeling those won't be going away. And suggestions are more welcome now then ever before!!

**_Villain_**


	6. Coping

THANX TO...  
**Guardian of Dreams:** Hope this was soon enough!  
**RougePriest:**Goodness, thanks!  
**Reptilian Goddess:** I'm confused too... but it will all work out!  
**GaBo0:** Would it help if I admitted I'm confused too? Or is that just disheartening?  
**Sarkywoman:** Yes, I'm badly tangled up. And yes, a naked Draco makes it all better!  
**YG:** Thank you thank you!  
**Ihni:** Here you are, dearie! Enjoy...

* * *

Chapter Six: Coping

The fervent kiss broke, and Draco swallowed in air through swollen, blushing lips. Sirius touched them with a gentle caress, his fingers quaking slightly in their attempt to be utmostly soft. The red mouth was hot to the touch, and the boy flinched. Smiling roguishly, Sirius ran his tongue over Draco's lips, savoring the small panting whimpers that accompanied each careful swipe. His hand rested solidly on the blonde's stomach, and he applied just enough pressure to feel the muscles jump beneath his fingers.

Draco gasped.

"See what you can achieve if you know your way around the block? As for myself, I drive the Town Car."

The boy spoke through his teeth. "Riveting pillow talk, your wit will ever astound me."

"What would you know about pillow talk? I thought keeping me talking was the goal anyway."

"I didnÕt know it would be this painful."

A somber look descended upon Sirius's features. He lazily trailed a finger across Draco's chest. "It always hurts a little."

Holding his breath, Draco shot Sirius a sharp look. The man stared seriously back. "I hadn't forgotten that."

The midmorning sun did little to penetrate the window, and outside a grayness settled over the moors. Shivering a tiny bit with the thought of the cutting winds out there, Sirius lay back beside Draco, crossing his arms behind his head. Next to him, legs tangled in the sheets, Draco regarded him sidelong. "You were seeker, right? Do you miss Quidditch?"

"I suppose I do."

"Lucius wouldn't let you play it, would he. He always hated the sport, except when Gryffindor was beat into the ground."

"Always an uplifting subject." Draco shifted, reaching down to tug up the covers over his waist. He might as well have some shame. But Sirius reached over and pulled them down again, smirking at his scowl.

"Don't corrupt my view."

A spark ignited in gray eyes. "Need all the stimulation you can get? Having a hard time getting it up?"

Laughing, Sirius hooked his arm around Draco's waist and drew him closer. "Snotty prat, you wish. But I'm not _that rusty." He buried his nose in Draco's hair, feeling blonde lashes tickle his jaw line. "I remember Quidditch."_

"It's the only thing Gryffindors have going for them. Lacking, otherwise, in brains." Sirius lifted his chin. Draco coyly shrugged against Sirius's chest.

"Little blighter," Sirius murmured, tilting his head to catch the boy's lips. But Draco drew away, and the awkwardness that had been absent returned. For a moment they had almost been comfortable. In the peaceful state, Sirius's anger and lust from before had been vanquished. Now he looked down into Draco's eyes, and saw the beginning of a fight. The boy's body was against his, he could feel the soft skin next to his own. "You deny me one kiss?"

"You deny me my freedom?"

His grip on the pointed chin tightened. "I could deny you much more, but I'm being patient, aren't I." There was no question in his voice. Against his knuckles he could feel Draco swallow. This time when he leaned forward, the boy's lips were there. He drew back only a bit, enough to see Draco's closed eyes, before he dipped his head again. The boy tasted warm.

Draco tried to relax. It was repulsive, kissing this man. The whiskers on his face scratched his jaw, and the overpowering tongue crowded his mouth unpleasantly. But Draco knew that kissing wasn't supposed to be pleasant. The last time he had kissed anyone before Sirius, it had been another episode featuring his unwilling participation. The Deatheater had been drunk, and everything about him was hard and pressing. His hands hurt, his teeth on Draco's lips hurt. Draco flinched when Sirius's teeth grazed his lips, tensing when big hands settled on his shoulders, fingers pressing his skin. Eyes flying open, he forcefully tore his lips away, the stifling sensation of Sirius's mouth hanging on his lips. But the man's black eyes were half closed, and he didn't seem to notice Draco's panic. Instead, Sirius attacked Draco's throat, sucking avidly at the white skin. Teeth worked his flesh and it hurt. Draco could feel the blood rising to the surface, and he distantly remembered girls in his House at Hogwarts, sitting in the commons trying to cover up marks on their necks. He'd been so disgusted with them.

He started to move, rolling over onto Draco. The youth's skin was hot and smooth, his tongue explored the delicate collarbone and traced over the bobbing Adam's apple on the white throat. Merlin, he wanted him. When his hip bone brushed against Draco's inner thigh, he let out a surprised groan.

"Animal, stop it!"

"But I don't want to," he said calmly. Draco looked up at him with shaking rage, limbs quaking on the sheets. Sirius took hold of the thin wrists roughly and shoved them over Draco's head. "Just enjoy yourself."

"You're telling me this while you rape me?" His breath was coming out so fast that dots littered his eyes, swallowing air, he laid his head back, shutting them. "The Deatheaters never sunk this low."

Sirius increased the pressure on Draco's wrists, watching impassively as the boy's face twisted in pain. "They only tortured and killed innocent people."

"And what do you call this?" Draco stared up at his captor-that's what the Auror was-and laughed bitterly, throwing his head to the side. "I have too much pride to kill myself. But this is the equivalent." He ground his teeth. "Maybe I deserve this irony, who knows. Being fucked by my rival's Godfather. Why not? So do it, Sirius Black. Put it in me. Carry out every little fantasy you've been hoarding away in that demented psyche of yours. Pretend I'm my father, pretend I'm the Werewolf, convince yourself I'm bloody Hagrid. We both know I'm screwed-soon to be acceptable in every meaning of the word. And why am I scared of you? I've been beaten, starved, delirious, cursed, hexed, humiliated. But never raped. Mind fucked numerous times over, but never actually penetrated." He spit out the last word like a curse. "And that makes it sound so harmless; penetrated. So clean." His laughter dissolved into dry sobs, no tears falling from his eyes. The grip on his wrists lessened, and he was suddenly angry. "Don't pity me! If your going to use me, do it. Just forget I'm human and do whatever you want to me, I won't care."

Face constricted in reaction to the tangent, Sirius sat back. Draco glared fiercely up at him, his chest rising and falling with the passion of his pain. He'd never looked more like Lucius, and never had Sirius felt such a sharp yearning before. Everything the boy just ranted he wanted to do, and do it vehemently. But a higher sense of duty wriggled into his mind, rigorous training over a lifetime whispering, He's exhausted himself. The darker side considered the physical accomplishments he could carry out with Draco in this state, but the more professional side was adamant. He reached over to the table, pushing Draco's hands into his heaving chest. Then he anchored them there with all his weight, the pale fingers almost disappearing into the milky white skin of the boy's torso. Yet he didn't notice, his eyes quickly found the thought trackers and he grabbed them, fitting one onto his own head before securing one onto Draco's.

The boy was furious.

"You bastard son of a whore!" He was almost gnashing his teeth, focusing on the most violent thoughts he could, and throwing them at Sirius's mental presence. But the Auror's intuition was right, he had exhausted himself, and soon his eyes rolled up into his head, mind trapped under a more painful version of Veritaserum. Hands clawed through his mind, and he whimpered through his teeth. Sirius's breath was hitting his face. Mind being splayed open, he was easily reminded of that terrible time: the drunken Deatheater and his first kiss. Sirius's mental form seemed to pause over that particular memory, strong will holding Draco's beaten mental form at his side. Together, with their minds' eyes, they watched the scene. Again, just like in the moment, Draco felt the hard hands scorching his stomach and his back. Rushed breaths mingled wetly in the chamber as the young Deatheater tore Draco's robes, mouth seeking out his chest. Their mouths met in a tangle of tongues and lips, rancid breath laced with spoiled alcohol bathed his tongue. Draco tried to break the kiss, but the Deatheater was stronger than him, moreso now that he was drunk. And when he crushed Draco to him-Draco jerked on the bed in heat of the memory-he had felt the Deatheater's lust against his stomach.

Crying out, he thrashed under Sirius, breaking that memory, and they moved on. He was too weak to stop the indexing of his personal memories; some forgotten, some treasured, some painful. The Auror didn't need to ask questions, he just willed the answers to appear. Draco choked when a fuzzy scene took shape, Sirius's will growing next to him as the memory became clear.

Hogwarts, one of the emptier floors. He'd met Potter their for an impromptu duel. One he was actually angry enough to attend. Just he and Potter faced each other. He'd fired early, Potter fell, but managed to keep to his knees. Draco felt a painful stab of smug triumph, mottled by Sirius's presence. Then they moved on.

Going back further, and Draco knew Sirius was searching for Lucius. As the trackers performed their functions to the tee, Sirius had been absorbing answers. Yes, the Manor was the last stronghold. No, Draco didn't know of any other sects existing. Yet, still no Lucius. If he ever appeared (and Sirius surely paused for those memories), the man was out of focus, faint. But it was beginning to grind on Draco's mind, a splitting headache was forming on his brow.

"S-stop," he managed, teeth nearly cracking with the cruel vigor of his pain. Sweat slicked his wrists and Sirius's, sliding on his chest. Beads of perspiration fell into his eyes, dripping from the tips of Sirius's hair. Their sweat smelled thick and musky in the air, clouding the tracker progress even more. Though by now, they had been dragged back all the way through Draco's first year of Hogwarts. Though the Auror couldn't even be aware, he was so focused on any glimpses of Lucius. Draco's body arched and burned as Sirius hips were compelled into his own with a brutal shove as a startling memory surprised both of them.

Through the fog of mental and physical struggle, Draco could make out the last identifiable vision of his past. He was very small, only a toddler. And Lucius, he was there. And in his father's hands lay coiled a serpent with wicked green scales and poison eyes. It's teeth flashed, and sunk into Draco's arm. His mental form even felt the sting and he cried out, Sirius's and his tangled hands shifted down his body as his chest jerked. The snake's poison spread, and his mother swept him up into her arms.

And the last instance of recollection was Lucius's proud face, the only time Draco saw his father proud of him. He had survived the snakebite, unlike others before him. Lucius mouthed something, his face filling the mental picture.

_My son._

They both were violently ejected, spines freezing in shocking paralyzation as the thought trackers disengaged. Sirius's head hit Draco's chest and the boy rocked back, spilling his tracker to the floor. Heavy breaths, pants of exhaustion, were all either could manage. The first to recover, Sirius tried to lift his head, but ultimately left it to rest on Draco's jaggedly rising ribs. Their hands were wound so tightly together the knuckles were white. Sirius pulled his hand away, curling his fingers to exercise the muscles. Beneath him, Draco had quieted.

"I know everything about you," Sirius said wearily, lips stirring in the sheen of sweat. His hair felt heavy and matted.

"A bit like a one way mirror." It hurt to talk.

"The way you think, the things you feel. It's never gone this far before." He turned his head, lips now touching Draco's navel. "I've never known anyone so intimately in my life. Not even myself."

"Too much like a one way mirror."

"Let's break the glass."

"No, you have what you want. It's done, Black. You've done it, you've gotten all the answers. And all that sexual tension can be released on the Werewolf. Just leave me in peace."

"Not _anything_ that I want. Not one thing." His words felt so slow. He was so tired, but a renewed sight of the being underneath him propelled him onwards. "You're beautiful. I've loved you since first year-"

"Black?" Draco raised his head.

"I can finally have you now. Haven't I passed the test yet?"

Draco's eyes widened as Sirius opened his mouth to shove his tongue into his navel, and over his stomach. "Sirius," he hissed.

"Finally I know all your secrets, all of those family codes you protected so selfishly. And no matter what James thinks, or Moony; you're still so beautiful."

A hot mouth found his and Draco struggled against Sirius desperately as the man lay heavily on top of him, forcing his arms down to his sides. Their tongues battled, Draco thrashing his head from side to side. He bit Sirius's lip hard enough to draw blood, and the man smiled, wiping it away. Then Draco cried out as a callused hand pressed between his legs. The sheets under him grew damp as he writhed and twisted, Sirius's fingers driving him crazy with heat. Small, high-pitched whimpers rode the end of each breath, and he felt helpless. Sirius gritted his teeth against his cheek, the muscles in his arms flexing as he moved faster. Draco jerked under him, choking on his own hitching breath. Cut moans slipped out between his pants, shaping Sirius's name, riding the knife-edge of frightened protest and mindless encouragement. He seemed to sober quickly though, and began to fight frantically when Sirius started chanting heatedly into his ear.

"Lucius. Lucius, Lucius..."

* * *

A/N: Okay, Sirius's weird lapse of sanity will be explained... I hope... in the next chapter! And I know they're awfully short, but short ones are all I have time for anymore. Also, I'm thinking next chap is the last. Suggestions still needed/welcome!

**_Villain_**


	7. To the Victor Goes the Spoils

**Chapter Seven:To the Victor Goes the Spoils**

"Sirius-"

He gave the blonde a bruising kiss, smiling a little when he gasped. "That's the first time you've ever called me that. Keep saying my name, Lucius."

"Sirius, I'm-"

"Yes..." His fingers began to cramp, but he didn't slow. The blonde's breath caught and he choked on his words, writhing wildly under Sirius's torturing fingers. He had Lucius helpless, squirming under him like the snake he was. Sirius kissed him again, hard, shoving his head back into the sheets. Muffled moans vibrated against his tongue and he felt his fingers becoming wet. A shaking hand gripped his wrist and Sirius broke the kiss, giving the young wizard a teasing bite on his lip. He squeezed with his fist and the body beneath him arched almost painfully. "I've wanted to fuck you for so long, Lucius."

"...no..."

His black eyes drifted over the sheen of sweat glistening on the pale skin. "Not yet?" He squeezed his hand again and the wizard let out a pitiful moan. "Want me to finish you first, then get you hard again? Always you first, Lucius," he chuckled huskily, crouching lower over the blonde's knees. His thumb massaged a weeping tip and he lowered his head slowly, puffing breath causing small jerks on pale, sensitive skin. He carefully opened his mouth, closing his eyes.

"Ah! No, no, no!" Draco bucked his hips, struggling to dislodge the eager man. But Sirius countered the move, shoving his head down and Draco stiffened, a low keening cry winding out his mouth. Sirius dug hard fingers into his hips, rigidly pressing over previous bruises from the blistering trip through the thought trackers. But his mind was thrown from that as unbearable heat centered in his groin, wet, stifling heat that shot like an arrow. He cried out, hands flying to Sirius's damp hair, wildly tangling in the black mess as he thrust, slave to the painful pleasure of his release.

"You taste better than I thought anyone could," Sirius managed hoarsely, wiping the side of his mouth. The blonde wizard lying on the bed was trembling silently, his wide gray eyes glassy. Red lips were parted and hot breath crowded in and out. "Lucius the snake," he murmured, playing his fingers over the flat stomach, "Everything S, perfect for sex." He lay over him, attaching to the crimson mouth that didn't resist his teeth or tongue.

The kiss tasted bitter, but he didn't have the strength to fight it. Sirius plundered his mouth with demanding vivacity, cutting off his breath. His limbs wouldn't move and he waited, half in a daze until Sirius let him alone. As soon as the man's presence drew back far enough, Draco curled up reflexively into a ball. Callused hands rubbed over his back and brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"Tired already, Lucius? No, I'm not letting you leave me behind this time." Sirius drew up the blonde's hips and gently massaged the cheeks of his rear. They were taut and soft, he kissed the crevice gingerly. "When I'm fucking other blokes I think of you..." He extended his tongue to taste.

Instinctive rage exploded over Draco's brow when he felt a wet tongue slide into that place, touching him in that place. "You bastard," he growled, twisting painfully around, catching the side of Sirius's head with his hand. But hard fingers stole around his wrist and his arm was twisted up behind his back. Numbness descended over the nerves leading from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. Sirius's teeth grazed the skin beneath his eyes.

"Leading me on, were you?"

The arm twisted tighter; Draco uttered a cut cry, his head bowing.

"Tease, Lucius. Such a terrible tease. Think you can just walk all over me..."

That demanding tongue curled into the corner of his mouth. Draco blanched, turning his face into the pillow, sickened by the feel of Sirius's tongue moving over his neck and face.

"Merlin, I'm going to fuck you so hard."

"Don't... don't- Sirius, it's me, Draco! Please!" He hated the tremor in his voice, but Sirius seemed to enjoy it. The man put a hand on the back of his shoulders and shoved him down hard into the bed. Already soiled sheets pressed up into his face. Burning that had settled in Draco's arm was spreading over into his chest. "Sirius- ah!" Two fingers invaded him with equitable force, shoving deep until they brushed something inside that made Draco open his mouth in a wanton moan. His mouth made an 'o' into the sheets. Hot, thrumming pleasure banged into his groin and he moaned again, bucking against Sirius. Wrong wrong wrong...

"Slytherin whore," Sirius chortled, giving his fingers a vicious twist. The blonde writhed unrestrainedly under him, mewling like a cat. "Tell me what you want me to do, Lucius. What's going to drive you wild." He carefully began stroking the wizard, eyes heated at the sight of his eaten fingers.

"I..." Mindless, stifled. Another crashing wave of pleasure. Too much, too much. Sirius... "Don't know..."

One hand still pressing a twisted arm to the sweaty back, Sirius nudged up against the blonde, the heat resonating to him maddening. Pressing up to the base of his fingers, Sirius drew them out, sliding himself in to replace them. The body underneath stiffened at his size and Sirius grunted, forcefully plunging the rest of the way in. As he hit something, the Slytherin gave a low cry, biting down into the pillow. Sirius threw his head back at the euphoric pressure that gripped him. "So tight," he groaned thickly. "Merlin, Lucius, you're tight like a virgin."

Shame broke over him real and chilling. Sirius rolled his hips and Draco felt every millimeter of movement against his walls, every sketchy sensation. Chasing shocks wound up into his throat, forcing out humiliating whimpers. He buried his face into the mattress, gritting his teeth as Sirius drew out slowly until just stretching him. Draco felt a panting mouth rest against his ear, and gasped when his numb limb was freed. Hands went under his chest and lifted him up partly as fingers dug into his nipples.

"Never thought I'd get you like this." Hot panting breaths bathed his ear in disgrace, each word a nail driving deeper into his fluttering heart.

"Bent over for me, open for me. Lucius, I'm going to fuck you until cum spits out your ears. Do you hear me?" He shoved back in, the blinding heat sending white wires up through his belly. A sharp yell lapped at his ears and he drew back out again, aching with lust. "Dirty little Slytherin whore, you like this? And I like giving it to you--I _love_ giving it to you, Lucius. Wanted to give it to you for so long." Another shove, harder than the last. His hips jarred.

Hurt so much, pain so sharp. Draco curled his fingers into the sheets. He was being split in two. Sirius thrust into him again, knocking his air out as the man rubbed vigorously against that one spot. And then... he heard a voice, a keening, whimper of a voice, thick with lust: "Yes..." His teeth drove down into his lips, eyes flying wildly in his sockets. A racing tension rocked his back at that word, his _own_ voice speaking that word. Sirius stilled, crowded into him.

"Lucius," he whispered, his heart swelling. With renewed vivacity he tore into the boy, his thrusting sending creaking tremors through the bed. Each thrust was followed by a high pitched moan, pulled from a flushed, swollen mouth. Sirius threw his head back as the moans of pleasure reached his ears, never imagining Lucius could sound so beautiful.

Sweaty locks of hair were rubbed into his eyes as he was rocked against the mattress repetitively until his cheek was numb. Each time Sirius pounded into him his vision turned white, and a small explosion centered in his groin. He was on fire, flaming where Sirius's fingers dug cruelly into his hips, dragging him back into the powerful thrusts. He did want it, it felt so good. He didn't care any more, shoving back in time with Sirius, crying out ferally whenever Sirius hit him right.

The heat was building quickly, gathering like a spring. He strove to thrust harder and faster, vision red. He tangled his fingers in damp blonde hair and jerked the beautiful head back, bearing a white throat. Staring down with unfocused vision, his lips curled back in a snarl of heat and need, Sirius rode the boy until they both were crying out in guttural voices. Sirius swore, yanking the blonde's head back against his chest, hips moving frantically as his climax crested and burst from him with the rushing force of a tidal wave.

"Sirius, harder... yes." His brow was etched with concentration while he rocked back onto the man. The pain over his scalp from Sirius's grip was secondary. He only wanted to be fucked into oblivion. "Sirius," he ground out, pushing back with wild abandon, crushing Sirius into him. His climax rolled over him, shooting out onto the sheets. His cry was silent, the pleasure more than he could bear as he felt Sirius release into him, the man continuing to thrust madly in and out. The grinding and slapping of their hips flooded Draco's ears, the vicious grunts emptying out of Sirius's mouth blowing against his neck. He was still riding him, still filling him up... Draco opened his eyes, nails drawing welts when they scratched over his chest, Sirius still pumping into him, chanting a name.

"Lucius, Lucius..."

No. The heat was growing in his head again, seeping out of his eyes.

"My Lucius..."

My father. Draco was shoved down on his hands, barely keeping his head up. Sirius slapped him across the thighs, vigorous thrusting not slowing. Pain deep and tearing crackled through his mind. He felt slow, everything was moving so slowly. Draco felt Sirius hit the spot again and the world seemed to crash into clear focus. He is not Lucius. I am not not my father. Lucius is...

With a brutal shove, Draco pushed Sirius away from him, yelling as the man was torn out of him. He immediately fought the hand that sought him out, seeing how Sirius's eyes were dull and blank. Lucius is...

The thought tracker flashed amidst Sirius's hair and Draco kicked out, catching Sirius in the knee. A backhanded blow hit him across the face, and Draco fell back, clawing at Sirius's face. Lucius is...

"Lucius is DEAD!"

He screamed it, driving Sirius back so that he lay over top him. Draco grabbed the thought tracker from Sirius's crown and threw it across the room. For moments they lay there, breathing heavily, Draco wincing as each breath seemed to stretch him from the inside out.

"D-Draco."

"Now you know who I am, you bloody bastard. Damned idiot." He fell back, shaking arm supporting his weight.

He looked all around. The bed they were in looked like a brawl happened in it, and traces of fluid lined the sheets. His black eyes caught traces of blood on Draco's thighs. "Merlin..."

"Did you do that? Yes, you did. You fucking sod, you did!" Draco landed two heavy blows to Sirius's chest before the man pushed him off, moving sluggishly away from the bed.

"My head hurts." Sirius sat down dizzily at the table, taking in his nude state. "What-" Flashes. Lucius. Thought trackers. Something had gone wrong. What was it?

"Poor Sirius," Draco hissed, just as lost as the man at the table looked. "Not even fully conscious to enjoy a fuck."

"A dream?" He picked up the dented thought tracker and rested his chin in his hand. "I didn't use them correctly. They backfire if used improperly." His dark eyes looked at Draco through a slope of black hair. "What have I done?"

Outside the sun was setting on the moors, purple streaks of darkness glowing in the small mists of dew. The velvet light bled into the shack, striking Sirius's face in shadows.

The man stared at his hands, head bent. Draco watched him from the bed, trying to still the shaking of his body in the cold. He wished to crawl away and perhaps die, under a nice rock where no one could ever find him. Either that, or he wanted to kill Sirius with the only weapon possible in this hell. Although he figured that Sirius wouldn't sit still to be smothered.

"Can you explain to me what happened?" Just flashes so far, and faint. His body ached deeply, a familiar ache that he knew, but did not want to recognize.

"You. Fucked. Me."

The flashes became sharper in image, and Sirius reeled at the intensity. It was as if he were touring his own thoughts with the thought tracker. He should his head vehemently.

"Don't want to remember? Wanker, don't want to know what you did?" Draco stalked closer, his ire staining his voice with hatred. "You bent me over on that bed and fucked me. You banged me until the bed was rocking off the ground. And the whole time--here's the best part, Sirius--you were calling for my father; calling_me_ my father."

Lucius. His head boomed with a miraculous headache. "I raped you. Draco-"

"Oh, now Sirius, nobody blames you. After all, you thought I was Lucius." Sarcasm spilled blackly out his mouth, and the blood marking his thighs seemed to sting. "After all, you only are decades older than me. After all, you work for the fucking Light side. Any Auror in your position would do the same thing. So don't feel bad. What an honor, my first time was rape by an Au-" His knees buckled, a sob cutting off his speech. Draco sunk down, fists grinding into the floor.

"Lucius," Sirius whispered. "How could I." He still has power over me.

"Lucius is dead," Draco said, coughing. "My father is dead."

The professional side of him took over and spoke, "We've had sightings of Lucius Malfoy in recent past months."

"People say I resemble my father. I suppose they were right."

"It was you-"

"So I guess in a way you were right, Black. You were fucking Lucius Malfoy. Congratulations."

"You think this counts as a victory for me? Draco, I would have never gone this far, never in my life would I have ever thought-"

"Your cum inside of me proves otherwise."

Sirius winced.

Pulling on his clothes, flinching as his pants fitted over raw skin, Draco shot Sirius a poisonous glare. "I hate you."

"I don't doubt it."

Draco ran his fingers through his hair. Sirius was now looking at him meditatively. He wondered if the man's memory permitted him the vision of Draco enjoying it. The shame scarred him deeply.

"I trust you have not betrayed your father, Draco, by giving this slime any of our secrets."

Both Draco and Sirius snapped around, taking in Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway, wand pointed directly between Sirius's eyes.

"F-father," Draco choked out, nearly toppling over. "But I thought... you were... dead..." He fell silent, eyes wide.

Sirius was shocked into silence as well. There he stood, the gleaming Lucius Malfoy. He looked the same, slightly thinner, but the same glowing eyes and shining hair. Like a human snake.

An perfectly groomed eyebrow arched, velvet tongue sarcastic, "As much as I am flattered by your faith in me, my son, we have no time to linger here. Dumbledore and his gaggle are on their way."

The eyes turned to Sirius's, turning him to ice. "I could certainly kill you, Black. But I want you to give Dumbledore a message for me instead." He walked over to the man, gliding in his ever graceful way, as his son watched in a daze.

Lucius ran his hands over his chest while magical bindings secured themselves around him, and to his chagrin Sirius felt a ripple of pleasure. His eyes slid shut when he saw Lucius lift his wand, breath hissing out his mouth as the wizard started to carve into his flesh.

"Do see that Dumbledore gets this," he purred, sultry lips curving upwards. His gloved hand caressed skin as streams of blood seeped from the lines making up the Dark Mark. Black shivered perceptibly. "Come, Draco," he announced, standing. Draco hurried to his side. Lucius did pause, to grip Draco's chin and look deeply into his eyes. "You've been well taken care of I can see." Gray eyes reflected in black.

They were both silhouettes in the doorway when Draco turned to his father, gripping his arm. "Wait," he said. Lucius touched his cheek, and stepped out.

Sirius watched Draco dart back across the room to where he sat. The boy leaned forward until their lips were barely touching, hands reaching down past Sirius's waist and into his sweater hanging off the chair. Sirius heard a familiar jangle and a bitterly wry grin managed itself onto his mouth.

Draco shook the eight galleons in his palm and smirked. "I believe these are mine," he said.

Little wanker, Sirius thought. Thrusting his face forward, he locked his lips with Draco, muffling the boy's protests. A hand came up stinging across his face.

"Bastard," Draco seethed.

Sirius chuckled. "And I think _you_ are mine. You walk away with eight galleons--I remain here the spoiler of your virginity." He grinned lasciviously. "Eight galleons against a fuck. I think I was cheated."

"Have to have the last word, Black, don't you?"

Sirius kept his bemused gaze on Draco as the boy went to the door. "Always, Malfoy."

"No, Sirius, not always." Draco's eyes grew shaded. "Because I still have Lucius, and you never will."

Silence followed Draco out the door.

A/N: Fin! Whew! (_promptly goes and takes a nap, dreaming of a sequel involving Lucius and Sirius...?_) Thanks, everyone!

**Villain**


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